


Like A Heart Attack

by Reddwarfer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad Haiku, Community: mpregbigbang, Humor, M/M, Mpreg, Romance, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, revenge via ringback tone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 20:32:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reddwarfer/pseuds/Reddwarfer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek asks Stiles to help him prepare for the Alpha pack, including becoming his mate. Neither of them are prepared for what happens after. Derek's got his hands full with the Alpha pack, his idiot teen betas, and a suddenly pregnant teenager for a mate. Stiles, meanwhile, is tremendously bitter he can't try out for the cast of Teen Mom if he has to put up with being pregnant during high school.</p><p>No references to season three spoilers. I've deliberately avoided including things not found in the aired seasons 1/2.</p><p>Written for The <a href="http://mpregbigbang.livejournal.com">MpregBigBang Community.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Like A Heart Attack

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so very much to my artist, cho_hakkai, for the wonderful art. Thanks also to the mod, who was so understanding and helpful. I also want to profusely thank my team of beta-readers: Djin7, Green, Whisper132, and Wook77. All of you saved my sanity at one point or another. Thanks, also, to the people in the [GPXplus](http://gpxplus.net/) staff chat room for answering some of my crazy questions, like: _So, as a dude, how would you react to becoming magically pregnant?_ I love all of you. 
> 
> The art is currently embedded in this story, and I will link to it as soon as my artist makes her own post.

Stiles decided after the night in the warehouse, which he referred to accurately as Night of the Annoyingly Living Dead, that he was done. So completely done that he was beef jerky-level done. There weren't enough words to describe how much his life sucked since Scott had been bitten and he met Derek Hale. But it could be summed up as a lot. A whole hell of a lot. He vowed to himself to never let himself get involved with Derek's supernatural drama again. Because, _seriously._

Which was why when Derek showed up at his house four days later and said, "Stiles, I need you to research something for me," Stiles responded with a calm and decisive, "How is this my life? Okay, fine, you are so useless without me, whaddya need?" because he was not only stupid, he was also a masochist. _Christ_.

The truth was he maybe had the tiniest little soft spot for Derek. Microscopic. And also the likelihood of Derek's current problems becoming Scott's problems, which meant they'd end up _his_ problems anyhow, was exceedingly high. It was just more efficient this way.

Derek plopped down heavily onto his bed and sighed, eyes on the ceiling. "There's an Alpha pack in town and I need to know more about them and if there's a way to become more powerful that I don't already know about."

"Wait, wait, wait, back up a minute there," Stiles said, arms flailing as he sat up in his chair too quickly and almost fell to the floor. "What the hell is an Alpha pack and how is this going to ruin my life even more, because I know it will. Don't lie."

"An Alpha pack is pretty self-explanatory. It's a pack made up of Alphas," Derek said, in that frustratingly vague way of his that explained absolutely nothing at all.

"And so, therefore? Come on, man, you gotta give me more to go on than that. And I noticed you haven't touched on how this is going to ruin my life," Stiles pointed out, twisting his chair side to side.

Derek rolled his eyes. "Would it make you feel better if I told you that yours certainly won't be the only life they ruin?"

"No, Derek, that doesn't make me feel better at all. God, never get a job manning a suicide hotline, because so not the career choice for you, I don't mind telling you." Stiles slapped his hands down on his thighs and got to his feet.

"I'm going downstairs to get drinks and snacks because I have a bad, bad feeling that this is going to be one of those days that will be horrible and refuse to end and I definitely think I deserve some Cheetos at the very least. While I'm down there, do you think maybe you can summon up the will to answer some of my questions directly?"

"I'll give it my best," Derek replied, and then he kicked Stiles' shoe with his foot. "Get me something to eat."

Instead of telling Derek 'fuck off, I'm not your slave, thank you very much’, Stiles tilted his head and said, "Sure, what do you want?" because his brain didn't function correctly at all.

"Sandwich is fine." Derek shrugged off his jacket and basically made himself at home in Stiles' room, which meant he planned on staying for at least a few hours. Which meant that there was more going on than Stiles knew. It was generally the case, but Stiles figured there was a good chance that he could get more out of Derek if he bugged him long enough. "And let me steal some of your Cheetos."

"Righty-o, sandwich and stolen Cheetos, coming up." Stiles made his way downstairs and seriously considered asking his dad to send him to boarding school. Sometimes, it really sucked being the only person Derek Hale could rely upon because everyone else in his life was completely useless at most tasks involving thinking. In all fairness, Peter could think—far too well for Stiles' tastes—but he was bugfuck crazy and creepier than Derek by far, and that took some doing. Ugh. Derek's _life._ Which somehow infected _his_ life. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

Stiles was tempted to make Derek a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on stale white bread, but his conscience wouldn't let him. Derek's two residences were a burnt out husk of his childhood home and a subway car in a warehouse. Stiles didn't even want to think about what else lived there. Neither of those places had been big on electricity, running water, and functional kitchens, or at least as far as he noticed. Derek probably subsisted on terrible instant foods with high sodium and no nutritional content. That and terrifying gas station chalupas.

Instead, because Stiles was a good, kind soul, and deserved to be canonized for all the shit he put up with, he made Derek a roast beef and cheddar sandwich on thick, tasty multi-grain bread, and topped it with lettuce, tomato, onions, and mustard. He also snagged a second bag of Cheetos so Derek didn't have to steal his, and grabbed them both a couple cans of Coke. He made it up the stairs without dropping anything due to ease of habit and found Derek was now barefoot and lying on his bed.

Stiles dropped the plate with the sandwich on Derek's washboard abs and put the Cheetos bag and Coke on the side table. "Sit up when you eat that or you'll choke."

Derek raised an eyebrow at him but obeyed, and Stiles tried to pretend he didn't sound just like his dad. To cover the awkwardness of it all, Stiles asked, "So, yeah, you also mentioned wanting more power? And you couldn't just ask Creepy Uncle Peter? Of course the reasons why that's a terrible idea are fairly numerous. His penchant for kidnapping...and murder...and unexplainable undead mindfuckery. You know what? Forget I said anything."

Instead of answering, Derek just ate his sandwich and glared. Which, cool, Stiles could work with that. If he couldn't work with being glared at by Derek, their association would have died seconds after trespassing on his property that first time. "Cool, so, I'll just start with the research. You can sit there silently and glare at me. Although, and I'm not in any way trying to pressure you, but if you wanted to, say, drudge up whatever acting skills led you to charm the Desk Sergeant that time and use them on me so I can pretend I'm doing this for a friend instead of the guy who crawls in through my window at intervals and glares me into submission, that'd be cool, too."

"You win," Derek said, and Stiles just gaped at him. "We're friends and I trust you. Now, if you shut up and get to work, I'll fill you in a little more."

"Do you actually mean that or are you just bullshitting me? I'm one of the unlucky few not born with a built-in lie detector." If Derek was willing to stop treating him like his very presence was a trial, Stiles could stop treating Derek like he was karmic retribution for crimes in a past life.

"Stiles," Derek said, exasperated. "Fine. I meant it. Just... Let's not discuss it anymore. Please. Do you want to hear more about what's going on, or do we need to braid each other's hair first?"

"You're just saying that so I'll do your busy work. It's okay. We can work on it. It'll be something to aim for." Stiles turned back to the computer and pretended he wasn't blushing. Next time Derek showed up, he'd force him to watch a movie, because Stiles could only benefit from having one fewer menacing relationship in his life. "What do you want to know first?"

"I need to tell you something first," Derek said, the barest hint of worry colored his tone. Stiles turned back around to Derek lying on his side, looking over at him, and he could see the debate war on Derek's face.

Stiles reached out and patted Derek's ankle where it hung off the end of Stiles' bed only to snatch it back at Derek's stony expression. They could work on casual physicality later. "You know you can trust me, and every single time there was a secret kept in this whole mess, it always came back to bite us in the ass. So, just tell me and we can avoid future misery, okay?"

"I think the Alpha pack have Erica and Boyd," Derek said, quiet, and before Stiles could jump out of his chair to do _something_ , Derek held up his hand. "They're not in danger, at least not yet."

"Why didn't you tell us right away?" Stiles demanded. If he'd known earlier, he could have...well, he didn't know what he could have done, but he'd have been more than halfway to a plan by now at the very least. He didn't want to think about the last time he saw them, tied up in the basement with Crazy Grandpa Argent terrifying the hell out of them.

"They decided to leave," Derek said evenly, but Stiles could tell it bothered him. "It wasn't until I was out in the woods, trying to following the trail of the Alphas that I noticed Erica and Boyd's scents mingled with theirs. There was no blood, so I'm fairly sure they went with them willingly."

"Why does this not comfort me at all?" Stiles leaned back in his chair and heaved out a shaky breath. "Do you think they're being...tortured? Because sixteen is a little young to have multiple experiences with it. How we don't all have crippling PTSD is a true mystery."

"I'm sure they won't withhold information due to loyalty to the pack," Derek replied, rolling over and onto his back. "Since they decided not to be a part of it anymore."

"So, what you're saying is, not only do we have this Alpha pack here in town with some undoubtedly nefarious purpose in mind, but they also located two of the local juvenile delinquent werewolves who will give them any and all information they can? Wow. It's like a nightmare about a plague and I don't even have to worry about the sleep I won't be getting to experience it."

"We have time to figure something out. They won't make their move for a while. That's why I need you to find out what you can about them or if there's anything suspicious going on in town. And I want to see if you can find any ways I can become more powerful without adding new betas to the pack."

"Finally decided that picking your allies from disillusioned youth was probably a bad idea?" Stiles couldn't help but ask.

"I regret it every day," Derek said and Stiles felt a thump in his chest at the hint of Derek's sense of humor. Of all the things Stiles didn't need in his life this was right up there. It would only lead to humiliation and tears. He needed help in the worst ways. Why could he never get hot over someone normal? Because he was doomed to a life of torment and celibacy, that's why.

The smile Derek had on his face now suited him better than the fake one he used to flirt or the smug one he used to taunt Scott. Later, when Derek wasn't around to catch any sounds or scents that'd give his thoughts away, Stiles would maybe acknowledge wanting to see that smile again.

"First things first. What can you tell me about this Alpha pack? What are they? Why are they here? I'll do your research, whatever. But, I need to know where to start."

"I know a few things for sure, but the rest are rumors. I need to know what's fact and what's fiction." Derek moved to sit on the side of Stiles' bed, resting his elbows on his knees. "I know that the Alpha pack show up whenever werewolves find themselves on the radar too much. Beyond that, their methods, their numbers, their power are all speculation and gossip."

"One too many 'animal attacks' is the reason for this visit is what you're saying," Stiles said, resigned. They'd just finished dealing with the kanima and now this.

Derek nodded. "I've heard that they evaluate the packs in question and deal with them as they see fit. Sometimes, they leave without doing anything. Sometimes, they cull problematic numbers. Sometimes, they wipe out the entire pack."

"I regret every single time I thought werewolves were awesome," Stiles bemoaned, because this was going to be a disaster. He just knew it.

He was surprised when Derek perked up at that. "Are you sure you don't want the bite?"

"I thought you learned your lesson about biting teenagers," Stiles replied, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

Rolling his eyes, Derek countered, "You couldn't possibly be worse. I meant it, though. Do you want the bite?"

Stiles' eyes widened at the question. It wasn't as if he never thought about it, but so far the cons outweighed the pros on a fairly consistent basis. "Ask me again when we're not being threatened by an Alpha pack and there aren't crazy-ass Argent hunters trying to kill everyone."

"Okay," Derek said, shrugging. "It would just be better if..."

"If what? Not being as bad as Scott and company aside, there were plenty of times me not being a werewolf was a good thing."

"It would be better if you were in my pack." It was a pained admission more than a plea, but it made Stiles unaccountably pleased.

Stiles looked at him. "I sorta am already, aren't I? I'm also sorta in Scott's, too, I guess."

"It's not something you can do halfway."

He had one question and it would be a bit of a deal breaker if Derek said yes, but he had to ask. "Do I have to be a werewolf to be pack?"

Derek seemed to wrestle with that question for a moment, body tense, then he deflated. "No. I want to say yes, but it's not true. Just like you're in Scott's pack, you can be mine and be human."

There was a moment where they both just stared at each other. Stiles wondered if Derek was aware that he sounded like those cheesy twelve pack Valentine cards kids gave each other in the fifth grade, but stifled the line of thought before it set him off laughing.

"I'm just as likely to tell Scott where to shove it when his ideas are stupid as I'd do it to you. More often than not, I'm the one telling him what to do, because he can be an unbelievable idiot when it comes to ideas, Allison, and basic life preservation. But you already know that."

"If you were in my pack, I wouldn't stop you from helping him," Derek offered. "This whole trust thing would be easier if you were pack."

"Scott's not gonna join your pack, you know," Stiles said in lieu of responding to Derek's request directly. Joining Derek's pack felt right, despite everything, but it didn't mean Stiles couldn't use the reassurance that it wouldn't bite him in the ass later.

Derek huffed. "I _know._ Maybe it's for the best." Stiles wondered if Derek was thinking about how easily Allison's family had used him through Scott.

"It's a yes as long as it won't make me betray Scott," Stiles decided. If Derek could accept that, cool. If not, Stiles had managed just fine so far without official pack affiliations.

It was clear by the look on Derek's face that he didn't like conditions put upon him, but that was just tough luck for him. Stiles wouldn't back down from it. "It goes against the whole point of the hierarchy to let a human beta make conditions." Stiles tried not to look too disappointed, but Derek spoke again. "I guess I'll have to live with it. Try not to fight me too often. And no more secrets."

"I'll try," Stiles said, but they both knew that Stiles really didn't do the blind obedience thing. He could work on the lies and secrets thing, but only because it rarely turned out well. Stiles was nothing if not a pragmatist.

Neither of them spoke for a while. Stiles turned back to the computer and Derek brooded on his bed.

"I do have a question," Derek said, and it was clear that it had taken some effort for Derek to even build up to discussing whatever it was. "Did you know what Scott was planning in the warehouse?"

"You mean with the whole," Stiles made fangs with his fingers, "and my crazy-ass principal?"

"Yeah, that." Derek shifted until his knees were touching Stiles. "Did you know what was going on?"

Stiles shook his head vigorously. "No! I had no idea. If I had, I would have told him it was not only stupid, but suicidal. That everything didn't end in everyone's painful death is a miracle. You do realize that that asshole snagged me after the lacrosse game and roughed me up in his basement, right?"

Derek looked surprised at that. "No, I hadn't."

"I mean... I told you about Erica and Boyd, right?"

"Yeah, but... I guess I didn't connect that you were actually there with them."

Stiles waved a hand at him. "Don't worry about it. It was a crazy, crazy night. None of us were at our best and I was probably rambling at you. I tend to do that."

Smirking, Derek raised an eyebrow at him. "I hadn't noticed."

"Anyhow, point is, I didn't know. And I wouldn't have been okay with it. Dude was fucked up and if I hadn't been so completely terrified that he could hurt my father, I'd have delighted in getting his ass arrested."

Derek looked at him, but said nothing. Stiles got the sense he'd passed some sort of test, because the silence wasn't tense or fraught with the homicidal menace Derek liked to keep about him in his better moods.

"We could have an emergency clause, though," Stiles said after a few minutes of useless poking around Google. Derek didn't seem to be confused by Stiles jumping back to their 'want the bite y/n' conversation, so Stiles supposed he could stick around. "I'm not too keen on dying a virgin and oh my god forget I said that bit, but anyhow if there's a situation and it's the bite or die or something, feel free to bite me. And I mean that literally."

"Noted."

It wasn't until Stiles' dad pulled into the driveway that Derek got off his bed, shoved his feet into his shoes, and left via the window shaped doggy door with a terse, "See you later."

"Bye," Stiles said, even though Derek had already disappeared into the woods. His head was already buzzing with research angles, pack dynamics, Erica and Boyd, and what to tell Scott. Dealing with Derek could never be anything but complicated.

Just then, his phone buzzed with a text from Scott. _allison wnts 2 meet l8r!_

"Fuck my life," Stiles said, and headed downstairs so his dad wouldn't see the junk food wrappers in his room.

***

The thing about researching anything most people thought was fake on Google was that the results were 99% absolute shit.

The other one percent tended to be cryptic and in the worst sort of purple prose. It was awful.

Stiles had spent the better part of a week scouring all of his sources for information about the Alpha pack as well as power boosting for Alphas and came up with depressingly little. Derek had made the habit of showing up to his house as soon as his dad went to work and shifted between hovering over his shoulder menacingly and sprawling over his bed, demanding food and information in turns. When pressed, Derek, in the most begrudging way possible, doled out tiny nuggets of information. Sometimes, it was about his family. Other times, it was about pack business.

Mostly, he just scowled and ignored most questions Stiles threw at him. Erica and Boyd had turned up and were around, but Derek quickly shut down any conversation on the topic and Stiles decided, wisely perhaps, to let it drop and avoid those two until he had more information. Other than four or five or thirty topics Stiles had internally deemed 'touchy' for Derek, he continued to pepper questions in Derek's direction, hoping his ratio of asked/answered improved.

It was weird, though, the way tension between them mostly disappeared. Like as if they were always on the brink of getting along, but were just waiting for permission.

"Why are you here again?" Stiles asked, and then quickly added at the look on Derek's face, "Not that I don't want you here. Who wouldn't want a manly and terrifying Alpha haunting their bed...er...room. Bedroom?"

Derek gave him a look and said, "You work faster with proper motivation."

"That I do. That I do, indeed. Can I just petition management to consider other kinds of 'proper motivation'?" Stiles complained.

"Like what?" Derek asked, amused.

Stiles gaped at him and blurted, "Not sex. I am not thinking about sex. _Ohmygod_ what is wrong with my mouth? Um. Burgers. I said. Burgers. And nothing at all about sex. Curly fries!"

With a chuckle, Derek went back to reading a book he'd stolen from Stiles' bookcase and said, "I'll take it under consideration. If you ever give me any information worthwhile."

"This is why people like hourly rates. Being paid for time spent, not results produced."

Derek rolled his eyes. Even though Stiles couldn't see it, he could sense it. "Shut up and find something."

"I like it better when you show up hungry. It's a lot easier to convince you to slack off, watch movies, and eat take out first. C'mon, Derek, you know you want to cuddle on the couch watching Lord of the Rings."

Snorting, Derek just pointed his finger at the screen of Stiles' computer. "Later."

It occurred to Stiles, then, that he didn't actually know where Derek was staying anymore. He supposed the subway car was out, and the Hale house was already marked up by the Alpha pack and none-too-defensible. And maybe, perhaps, Derek just wanted somewhere clean, comfortable, and free of crazy-sister killing family members to hang out for a few hours before he fucked off to wherever he went when wasn't with Stiles.

"So, um, can I ask you a question without you threatening to cause me bodily harm or actually just doing the bodily harm?" Stiles jiggled his leg and tapped his fingers restlessly against the desk.

Derek sighed and set his book down. "No promises."

"Okay, right then. So, where are you staying? I mean. You're not staying at your usual haunts, are you? Because I'd seriously, seriously advise against it. I don't know about your money situation. Not that you'd share that sort of information with me, what with it not being my business. But, I'm kinda thinking you need a place to stay, preferably with electricity and a roof."

"I do. Sort of," Derek replied. "It's a small two bedroom apartment I'm sharing with my uncle."

"Say no more," Stiles said fervently. No wonder Derek wanted out of the place as often as he could. Stiles' belly ached with knowing Derek had to live with that creep. "Come over as often as you like. As long you don't let my dad see you. Or interrupt special Stiles time."

"Thanks," Derek said, wry. "I'll keep that in mind."

Stiles closed out the last tab he'd opened during the day's search and huffed. "I think we've exhausted all angles available to us so far. There's another option, but I'd rather not use it."

"What is it?" Derek asked, suddenly intense in the way he used to be with Stiles before this particular research project.

Rubbing a hand over his head, Stiles heaved out a breath. "My dad. I could ask him if knows about anyone moving into town recently. You said they'd been here a while? It'd make sense that they'd secure a more permanent base instead of hanging out in the woods."

"What's the problem with asking?"

Stiles frowned. "Well, I don't really have any reason for my curiosity that I can tell him. And he's basically spent every second since Scott was turned being disappointed in me. Mostly because I've spent most of that time lying to him, endangering his career and getting him hurt. And if this turns out like it _always does_ , he's going to want to know why I asked about them when he finds the bodies a few months later."

The look Derek gave him made him groan, part sympathetic, part 'I'm going to ask, anyway', and Stiles clenched his eyes for a moment and gave a nod. "I swear to god, Derek. If this goes horribly wrong, I'm going to drag your little werewolf ass over to Sunday dinner and make you explain everything."

"Fine," Derek replied. "If it comes down to it, we can tell your father. I just would rather not unless it's absolutely necessary."

The idea of his dad being able to look at him without the wall of disappointment between them clutched at him. It was too dangerous, he knew, and he didn't want his dad in the middle of it all, but to know eventually he could stop lying to his dad meant the world to him. Stiles refused to acknowledge the way his eyes burned a little. "Thanks."

***

Lucky for Stiles, it turned out he didn't have to ask his dad anything after all. All it took was him doing some much delayed errands. The thing about having a sheriff for a father and being a minor juvenile delinquent was that he was privy to some creative punishments. He'd carried groceries and weeded gardens and done various chores for most of the senior members of the town. A heretofore undiscovered benefit of such being that all the people he'd helped thought of him as a good boy and a part of their gossip mill.

Stiles learned from Mr. Lovett that the old house on Devlin Drive near the south side of the Preserve was recently purchased by some college-age students. Mrs. Greenway informed him that someone bought out the entire hardware store's supply of chains, and wasn't that strange? Mrs. Everett let him know that something weird had glitched on his surveillance equipment in his store and no one could figure out what it was because it was already working perfectly again.

It wasn't much, but it was enough so Derek was satisfied and he didn't have to include Stiles' dad.

"Well, that's what my senior citizen network informed me," Stiles said around a mouthful pizza.

Derek glanced away from the movie they were watching and said, "It's better than nothing," then grabbed another slice of meat lovers.

"I've had no luck with the power thing," Stiles said, frustrated. "I even translated a bunch of badly worded Latin pages with no luck. So, apart from the obvious, there's nothing. Well, unless you want to take a chance on the 'bathe in the blood of two hundred yaks' ritual I saw."

"What do you mean by 'apart from the obvious'?" Derek asked, body turned towards him. "Giving more people the bite?"

Stiles looked over at him. "Oh, well, there is that, too. But I meant taking a mate. I figured you decided against it. For reasons."

"No." Derek looked stunned, as if the idea of a mate never even crossed his mind.

"Oh," Stiles said, and then he waved his hands. "I wasn't, like, not mentioning it you to hide anything. I honestly thought you'd already thought about it and decided against it. Or I would have mentioned it, like, the first day."

"It would be good for the pack," Derek said, sitting back in the chair. "Having a mate can double an Alpha's power. And there are other benefits."

"Yeah," Stiles said, nodding. "So, now you need to figure out which unlucky bastard you want to tap for this glorious honor."

At that, Derek frowned. "I…I need to think about that."

Stiles couldn't blame him since his pack equaled out to a bunch of idiotic teenagers and his creepy-ass uncle.

"All right," Stiles said in his most bracing tone. "Let's eat the fuck out of this pizza, watch the fuck out of this movie, and not talk about it for the rest of the evening."

Derek grinned at him. "I think I can manage that."

***

Stiles didn't know why it surprised him when Derek crawled through his bedroom window the following day and stood in front of him awkwardly for a few moments before biting out a terse, "I think it should be you."

"You think it should be me _what_?" Stiles asked dumbly. He had no idea what Derek was talking about because it truly hadn't occurred to him that he should know _exactly_ what Derek was talking about.

Derek looked annoyed. "You know what. I need a mate. You should be it."

"What in the world made you think that me being your mate was a good idea?" Stiles asked, voice rising with each word.

"You're the best choice," Derek said in that not-so-patient patient tone of his.

Stiles blinked at him. "How? _How?_ "

"Think about it." Derek crossed his arms, defensive, and stared at him.

So, Stiles did. "Okay, okay. Let's look at it all logically. Peter's your uncle, so he's out. Isaac is..." And Stiles tried to imagine Isaac, who clearly craved healthy male affection and attention, as Derek's mate and cringed. "Isaac. Erica and Boyd both tried to leave the pack."

Derek added, "And they're fucking."

"They are?"

"Back on topic."

"Okay, yeah, and even if Scott were in your pack, which he isn't, he's stupidly in love with Allison. Right. So. There's me who's both single and available and dependable."

"Don't forget, willing to do what it takes," Derek added, because he was the same brand of pragmatist Stiles was.

"But, really, me? There are so many ways this is a bad idea that I can't decide which to list first."

Derek sighed, frustrated. "It's not as if I can just go pick some random person up at a bar and say, hey, be my mate, I need you for a possible upcoming war."

A hysterical giggle forced its way up Stiles' throat. "Worst pick up line ever. And, I kind of hate you for using it on me."

" _Stiles,_ " Derek bit out, and looked extremely uncomfortable about the entire conversation.

Again, Stiles tried not to erupt in the most inappropriate laughter ever. "It's not that you're not the most charming sour wolf I've ever met, but I really don't see how it'd be a good thing for either one of us given we just barely became sorta-friends after months of being reluctant allies."

"Did you just give me the 'it's not you, it's me' excuse?" Derek asked him, incredulous.

"Oh my god, I did," Stiles looked at Derek, stunned. "I really did. My life is the supernatural edition of a Lifetime movie. I'd ask someone to kill me, but it really seems like tempting fate at this point."

"Stiles." Derek's frown was back and his tone serious. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

"I know that," Stiles replied, deflating a bit. "I know. It's just...I don't know. It's a lot to get my mind around. Beyond the fact that we've only just now entered the amicable portion of our relationship, I've never dated so to speak, and you're kind of intimidating, and there's the fact that we can't just chalk it up as an experience when the Alpha pack issue is over."

"Fair enough," Derek conceded and didn't that make Stiles want to film the moment for posterity. "Promise me you'll think about it."

Stiles figured if Derek was willing to give a little on the issue, he could, too. "Okay. I'll give it all due consideration."

"I'm gonna head out," Derek said, awkwardness heavy between them.

"No, you can stay for dinner if you want. I was about to cook when you showed up."

Derek shook his head. "Maybe another day." When Stiles made to speak, Derek held his hand up. "I'm not upset. I just have a few things I need to take care of. I promise I'll come by soon."

"Okay." Stiles hoped he didn't sound as disappointed as he felt. "See you later."

He busied himself with making dinner as soon as Derek was gone and tried to ignore how much he missed Derek. Maybe he could pack it up when he was done and drive by the station. That'd be good. His dad needed decent food or else he'd just go through a drive-thru somewhere.

***

It wasn't that Stiles planned on ignoring his promise to think about Derek's request; it was that the following few days were busy. He wasn't intentionally not thinking of Derek's stupid face and his stupid request or how his stomach didn't ache that much when he thought about finally giving up his hopeless crush on Lydia. It was just that Scott finally remembered that they were friends and they hung out. It was summer and there were pickup games of lacrosse and all-night Halo and junk food binges and dozens of things to distract himself from the whole confusing and conflicting feelings he had every time he closed his eyes and couldn't stop himself from dreaming about useless failwolves instead of girls with strawberry blonde hair.

The thing was, it didn't really matter if Stiles was deliberately ignoring the entire situation under the guise of teenage boy hijinks, because fate hated him something fierce and decided to force the issue.

His dad came home with dinner, and Stiles didn't even try to hold back his opinion on the matter. "Salad, dad, it's not a hard word. It's a lot fewer syllables than cheeseburger with the works and curly fries."

"With my day, I deserve it," Dad argued. "Now, shut up and pass the ketchup."

"Why, what happened?" Stiles asked, momentarily distracted from his dad's horrible food choices.

Dad looked up at him and gave him a half-smile. "It wasn't so bad, but odd. Do you know any of the new kids going to your school next year?"

"New kids?" Stiles asked. "No. I've basically seen Scott this summer. With a side of more Scott."

"Well, when I was out picking up...er...a healthy snack," Dad gave him a slight wince. Stiles snorted but didn't interrupt. "This kid tapped my arm and handed me my cellphone. Said I needed to take better care of my things. Hey, what's that face?"

"What face? This face? I don't have a face. Well, I do. But there's nothing of note. About my face," Stiles rambled, trying not to hyperventilate.

"Stiles," Dad said with that tone that spoke of nothing but disappointment and the expectation of hearing lies. It made Stiles want to shrivel up and die a little. "What? Just tell me."

"It's just," Stiles said, helpless. "That's how those identity scams work, isn't it? They pretend to help you and then BAM. Someone claiming to be you is buying boxes of industrial grade lubricant in a small Mexican border town."

"Where do you even come up with this stuff," Dad asked, bemused, and then his expression turned serious. "You can talk to me, you know. I'm here for you, even if you're in trouble."

"I know dad," Stiles said, and got up and walked around the table to give his dad a hug. "I'm fine. Everything's fine. I'll be better. I promise."

"All I can ask for, I guess."

As soon as they finished dinner and his dad went back to work, Stiles was upstairs in his room, twitching restlessly in his computer chair. He stared down at his phone, thumbing through his contacts. He briefly looked at Scott's name, and then Allison, and then Lydia, even, but then he scrolled down to 'Sourwolf' and pressed send.

"What," Derek barked out by way of greeting.

If he hadn't been so nervous, he'd have mocked Derek for his horrible phone manners, but all he could think about was whether this was a message being sent to him. "I think one of the Alphas talked to my dad."

"I'll be right over." And before Stiles had even formed a response in his mind, Derek hung up.

Stiles looked down at the phone still flashing "call ended" and said, "Okay, then."

When Derek arrived, it was less than ten minutes later. "Explain."

Ignoring the rudeness for now, Stiles repeated what his dad said as best he could. "'Take better care of your things' means me, right? What am I going to do? I can't have them hurting him."

"Stiles," Derek said, and there was a world's worth of understanding in his gaze. "We'll do anything we can to prevent it." And Stiles knew he was referring not just to him, but the pack.

"If I said yes to the thing," Stiles began slowly, braver with each word, "would it make him safer or more at risk?"

"Safer," Derek said without missing a beat, no deception in his tone or expression. "An attack against my mate's family would be like attacking me directly. Not many would risk that."

"But someone could attack him knowing you'd retaliate," Stiles argued, because he'd been targeted far too often to ignore it.

Derek nodded his agreement. "True. Stiles, there is no option with a guarantee he'd be safe. Even if we'd never met, he'd be at risk because he's the sheriff. I'm only stating that, of all the options available to us, this would be the safest."

"How would they know, though?" Stiles asked, because he figured that anyone who came near Stiles would be able to tell he was Derek's mate through their freaky werewolf senses, but his dad wouldn't smell like Derek's pack. "It's not like I can tell Dad that I'm inviting you over for some platonic scent-marking and have you two cuddle it out on the couch."

"I'll scent around the perimeter of your property."

"Does this mean you'll be whipping it out and taking a leak on all our trees?" Stiles asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Better not let the neighbors see you."

"Stiles." Derek crossed his arms over his chest, but didn't rise to the bait. "Don't worry. They'll know and they'll know he's protected."

"Okay," Stiles said, resolved. They could work out the rest, after. He had a few questions, a few things he needed clarified, but he'd do it. Because it'd help his friends and his father and his pack. "I'll be your mate. Whatever it takes, right?"

Smiling. Derek was actually smiling. It was almost disconcerting. He gripped Stiles' shoulder and pulled him into an awkward hug. "Thanks."

"Yeah, don't thank me, yet," Stiles grumbled. "Ten bucks you're regretting it before a month's gone by."

"You think it would take that long?" Derek asked, and Stiles found himself shocked into laughter and managed a "Shut up."

"I do have a few questions," Stiles said after his amusement died down.

Derek sat down on his bed and looked up at him expectantly. "I figured as much."

Instead of sitting at his desk chair, Stiles chose to sit down on the bed next to Derek. "Well, it's a few things. So, how does it work? It's not like me and you just grin and point at each other saying, 'mate!' and then that's it."

"Er," Derek said, shifting uncomfortably. "No. It's more intimate than that."

"How much more intimate?" Stiles asked, picking at a loose string on his jeans.

Derek huffed. "Extremely. And during that there's the marking."

"So, you're saying we need to have bite-y sex?" Stiles asked, voice raising a few octaves.

"It's not just...sex," Derek managed. "The Alpha must want to claim his mate during the marking."

"Oh, so bite-y sex with _intent_ ," Stiles said, and he figured it made sense. Will apparently meant a lot to the supernatural world.

"Yes," Derek said, seemingly relieved that the conversation was over.

Stiles knocked his knee against Derek's and said, "What about the other thing. I mean. It's not like it's something that'll go away when the Alpha pack does."

"No," Derek agreed. "It's supposed to be...Permanent...For life...But, if both parties truly don't want to be mates anymore, and the Alpha wills it, bonds can be broken. It's rare, though. There can't be even the smallest part of you that still wants the bond or it won't work."

"Oh," Stiles said, because regardless of how much he thought it was a bad idea and how he and Derek would probably end up killing each other, he wasn't too positive that either of them could muster up that kind of will. Too many times saving each other would do that.

Derek placed his hand on Stiles' thigh. "It's not something we need to worry about now."

"There's one more thing," Stiles said, trying not to get hard by the simple touch. "I'm human, so I won't get the full wolfy-effect of the bond, but will I notice any changes?"

"I'm not sure," Derek answered, eyebrows furrowing. "It wasn't something that was talked about, really. It was considered private. I knew the basics, but I was still young. I... wouldn't have been told until I was an adult because I was too far down in the hierarchy for Alpha."

"Oh," Stiles said for lack of a better response. Instead he turned and put his arm around Derek's shoulders, half-surprised to not be batted away. "We'll figure it out. We always do."

"Yeah," Derek replied and didn't pull away.

***

"Are there any freaky rituals involved with mating that I need to know about?" asked Stiles as soon as he heard Derek jumping through his window the following day. He'd spent some time with the more traumatizing parts of the Internet the night before when trying to research more about mating and he could really use the reassurance that most of the Internet was nothing but lies and bad porn right now. "Because I saw things on the net last night that I will never be able to un-see."

"Um." Derek sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

Stiles hadn't bothered to turn around to greet him. He'd been reading through a web page for the last half hour and Google Translate, as usual, was no help. So, he'd taken to looking up every word and tried to make sense of it all. It was doing wonders distracting him from thinking about some of the things he'd seen, though.

"This thing is a pain," he complained, but continued working. "Well, are there? If it involves dancing naked under the moon wearing the entrails of my enemies, I'm going to have to reconsider."

With a snort, Derek replied, "No. Nothing like that. I just," Stiles could practically hear Derek awkwardly gesture something that would translate into 'sex you up', "and then I give you a claiming bite and then..." Derek trailed off, mumbling something under his breath.

Which set off his 'something freaky's gonna happen' senses. Stiles swiveled his chair around and almost forgot what he was going to ask. Derek was wearing a button down dress shirt and a nice pair of slacks along with a pair of shoes that looked like the sort that got polished. Normally, when Derek showed up he looked like he crawled out of bed and put on the nearest thing without bloodstains. Not that Derek didn't make that work for him, he totally did, but Stiles actually couldn't remember Derek ever looking _nice._ "Are you going on a date?" Stiles asked before he could think the better of it, and Derek scowled at him in response.

"Stiles." It was amazing how many times in a week he heard his name being said with complete and utter frustration.

Stiles perked up and grinned. "Oho, this is for me? How sweet. You look like you're going out to a fancy restaurant in that get up. Which we can do if you want. Though, everyone in this town gossips like they're on Desperate Housewives or something. Still, we can role-play. You're the overworked businessman and I'm the young twink you picked up off the side of the road with questionable life choices and a heart of gold."

Derek actually looked pained, which tickled Stiles on so many levels. "Stop. Please."

"Fine, fine," Stiles said, pouting. "Ruin my fun. Seriously, though, you do look nice. Anyhow, I believe you were muttering under your breath and I was going to ask you to repeat that last bit again, louder and with clear enunciation."

Still looking like he'd been punched in the nuts, Derek sat down on the bed and stared at the floor. "Well," Derek said after clearing his throat. "There's...when I...after we're..."

"Derek, Der-bear, My Dear Wolfie," Stiles said, only stopping with the pet names when Derek glared at him, "It's painful watching you try to say whatever it is you're trying to say. Just write it down and then I'll ask any questions I may have."

Derek nodded and quickly scribbled something on the notebook Stiles was using earlier. He looked down and saw only one word, underlined twice. "Knotting?" Stiles asked, hoping his voice stayed steady. "Um. Okay. I can totally see why you weren't so eager to share this little jewel with me. So, what you're saying is your dick is as freaky as the rest of you and I'm going to experience it first hand, or ass, as the case may be." Stiles looked up at the ceiling and wondered how this was even his life. "If people can enjoy fisting and dildos thicker than my arm, I'm sure we'll manage!" Stiles said, over bright, the expression on Derek's face at the mention of dildos and fisting making up for the initial shock of Derek's weird Alpha junk.

"All right," Derek said, nodding once as if to himself, and then just sat there, silent.

Stiles took pity on him because it was clear that Derek had no idea how to segue from the whole "knotting" bombshell to figuring out the hows and whens of their undoubtedly super special naked mating time. "Here's what's gonna happen. I'm going to call out for Chinese. We're gonna eat it in front of a movie with guns and explosions and the barest hint of a plot. At some point during this film, you're gonna kiss me because I refuse to have an awkward first kiss while I'm naked and nervous and thinking about your weirdo junk, then, after we've made out a bit and the credits finally roll, we're gonna come back up here, strip naked and get our freak on. Sound good?" Stiles pinned Derek with a look that brooked no disagreements and didn't give him time to reply before he clapped his hands together and rubbed. "Good."

Looking like he'd been hit over the head with a part torn from his beloved car—Stiles would know—Derek got to his feet and mumbled, "Let's... do that."

***

***

"Get ready for one of the best cinematic experiences of your life," Stiles said as pushed play. Even the credits for _Shoot 'Em Up_ were awesome. Multiple cartons of Chinese food were strewn across the coffee table along with multiple cans of Coke. Derek had eyed the chopsticks as if they were made with wolfsbane and fetched a fork from the kitchen, the plebe.

"I somehow doubt that," Derek said and tucked into his meal like he hadn't eaten in days. After a few minutes of watching the film, Derek's eyebrow went up. "A carrot, really?"

"Shut up, carrots are good for you," Stiles said, and then, "Well, probably not when they're being jammed into your eye socket. Then they're deadly."

Derek snorted. "It's only been ten minutes and I'm already regretting ever letting you pick the movie."

Laughing, Stiles thwacked his hand against Derek's arm. "Just wait. It gets so much better."

In hindsight, Stiles thought perhaps he hadn't picked the best film to encourage sexy times. Despite the fact there was sex and hooker Nuns with assless habits. Maybe the dude wearing a diaper with a lactation kink spoiled the mood a bit. Or maybe it was the look of disturbed fascination that came over Derek's face every time the movie made its delightfully unconcerned assault on physics and realism.

"You're sorta like that dude, in a way," Stiles said, trying to mimic Smith's accent when he added, " _You know what I hate..._. But, if you're Smith, does that make me the creepy behavioral analyst dude or the lactating Italian hooker lady?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "The baby, Oliver, because you never shut up."

"So, that'd make you my pseudo-daddy?" Stiles chirped, because he just _knew_ it'd irritate Derek. "Because I guess I could make that work, later. If you want. But could we save the spanking and calling me your 'special baby boy' til after I've lost my virginity?" Stiles peeked at Derek's face and did a little victory dance in his head. He so called that one.

"There are no words to express how much I regret agreeing to this situation right now."

Stiles pouted a little. "So cruel, these things you say to me."

And to Stiles' surprise, Derek just laughed. Which made his cheeks heat up, just a little. He didn't think he'd ever get used to seeing Derek in a non-irritable state, especially one relaxed enough to laugh.

"Think we could reenact this scene?" Stiles asked as Smith got into a gunfight mid-coitus and didn't bother to stop either fucking or shooting. "Or do you think it requires at least one vagina? Are dudes flexible enough to do it against a wall like that while shooting at random baddies?"

"Shut up," Derek said, groaning. "Just. Shut up."

Stiles grinned. "Make me."

Even though it was the perfect set up, Stiles still wasn't prepared for when Derek shifted and darted in to give him a kiss on the lips. It was awkward for all of a minute, lips too hard against each other, until Derek reached out and cupped his face, guiding him into a slow, deep kiss that had his belly flopping over itself.

When Derek finally pulled back, Stiles blinked a few times, trying to get his brain to restart enough to make a comment. Unfortunately, he took too long and Derek quickly went from pleased to smug. It'd irritate him more if his heart still wasn't beating a bit too fast and Derek's hand hadn't moved to cover his own. Stiles supposed Derek could be allowed a little smugness. He'd get back at him, eventually.

They held hands for the rest of the movie.

***

"I feel like this should be more awkward," Stiles said, standing in his boxers, looking at his bed with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

Derek looked at him with an incredulous expression as he placed his folded clothes on a chair. "It's not awkward enough already?"

"I don't know why you feel awkward," Stiles pointed out. "You're a) not a virgin, b) underwear model hot and c) in charge of this whole situation."

"I deflower my underage teenage mate every day of the week," Derek said, deadpan. "It should be old hat by now."

Stiles couldn't help himself but burst into a fit of giggles. "Okay. Point, point. Just, yanno, tell me what to do so you can go where no man has ever gone before."

This time it was Derek's turn to laugh. "You are insane."

"I guess now would be the time for full disclosure," Stiles said, not disagreeing with him. This whole last year did nothing if not prove that he was nuts.

Derek had removed his clothes and folded them neatly on his computer chair. Stiles tried desperately to not find it cute, but couldn't help himself.

"I want you to promise me something," Derek said, walking over to him and curling his arms around Stiles' waist.

Stiles had to swallow down the urge to reply with _anything_. "Yeah?"

"Let me take my time," Derek said, and Stiles blushed despite himself. "Promise me you won't try to hurry me."

"Uh." Stiles throat clicked when he swallowed. "Yeah, sure. I...I can do that."

"Good," Derek said, and then he was pressing up against him, kissing him deep.

"Mmmph." Stiles didn't know where to put his hands, so he settled for grabbing awkwardly at Derek's hips, trying to get him closer, as close as possible.

They kissed for a few minutes and Stiles sent a silent thanks to the fact they were about the same height, because they fit together so easily.

Derek's hands wandered from from his mid back down to the elastic of his boxers, then slid his fingers beneath them to cup Stiles' ass. He guided Stiles over towards the bed, ass still firmly in Derek's grip, before he bore Stiles down on the bed, taking the boxers off as he went.

"I've been thinking about this all day," Derek admitted as he moved Stiles until his head hit the pillows, crawling between Stiles' legs. "Could hardly think about anything else."

"Me...me too," Stiles replied, breathless with anticipation. Derek smiled at that, and leaned over to where his coat was hanging off the chair and grabbed a small bottle of oil from the pocket. He opened and poured a small amount into the palm of his hands, its delicate scent barely noticeable. 

"Lie back," Derek said, and he knelt at the foot of the bed, taking one of Stiles' ankles into his hands. Derek rubbed oil into the soles of his feet, the knobs of his ankles, and the curve of his calves until Stiles was halfway melted into the mattress, turned on more than he'd ever been in his life, and Derek hadn't even touched above his knees. 

" _Derek. _" He bit down on his lip to prevent himself from demanding Derek to get a move on, because he'd _promised_ and Derek _knew_ , the bastard.__

__He opened his eyes, not even recalling when he'd closed them, and caught Derek staring at him, unabashedly, and rubbing circles with his thumbs on the sides of his knees. Derek wet his lips once with a flick of his tongue, then leaned in and kissed where he'd just been rubbing, right above his thumb, and then again, and again._ _

__Derek mouthed at the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, moving steadily upwards and until he was so close to where Stiles knew Derek would avoid that he was afraid he'd come untouched against his belly. Looking up to make sure Stiles was watching, Derek smiled against his skin, and then bit down, lightly at first, and then harder until he'd left a spit-wet red mark behind._ _

__"Ungh." Stiles thighs trembled with the effort of not wrapping them around Derek's stupid head and pressing his face where Stiles wanted it most._ _

__It wasn't a surprise when Derek bypassed his cock entirely after he'd poured more oil into his hands, choosing to rub just above the line of his pubic hair up to his belly button, then back down along his sides, to the top of his hips. "Feeling relaxed?" Derek asked, a mixture of aroused and amused._ _

__Stiles glared at him. "If I were any more relaxed, I'd be asleep."_ _

__"I don't know," Derek commented, now massaging his thumbs right beneath Stiles' nipples, which hardened at the proximity. Stiles could feel the hair on Derek's thighs brush against his own, but Derek moved back enough so Stiles couldn't thrust against him. "You look pretty tense to me."_ _

__"You're a laugh riot," Stiles said, thumping his head against the pillow in frustration._ _

__Derek leaned forward, then, bracketing Stiles' head with his hands. "Hey," Derek said, lips brushing against Stiles'. "I've got you."_ _

__"Yeah," Stiles replied, suddenly overwhelmed all over again. Derek had asked him not to tell him to hurry, but he didn't say Stiles couldn't touch back. So, Stiles looped his arm around the back of Derek's neck and pulled him into a heated kiss. It was sloppy, full of teeth and want, but it felt better then any of the kisses they'd shared so far._ _

__"Stiles," Derek panted out when he pulled back to breathe. "You...are so... _you_."_ _

__Before Stiles had a chance to talk back or feel hurt, Derek kissed the spot of skin below his ear and whispered, "That's not a complaint."_ _

__"Unmph," Stiles muffled his words against Derek's shoulder as Derek bit gently at his neck._ _

__Too quickly, Derek pulled back and moved so his knees were on either side of his hips. "Turn over," he murmured, with a hand squeezing the back of Stiles' neck._ _

__He rushed to obey, because he felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin if Derek didn't get back to touching him._ _

__There was a kiss to the back of his neck, and another on his right shoulder, then left, then on the place right between his shoulder blades. Stiles groaned his frustration against his pillow, his hips jerking thoughtlessly against the mattress._ _

__"Not yet, Stiles," Derek whispered, and shifted so his weight rested on the small of Stiles' back. Derek's hands, now with more oil, rubbed every inch of skin he could find while Derek's mouth spent every minute unerringly on the breadth of his shoulders._ _

__When Derek slid down to mouth bites down his spine, Stiles could feel the length of Derek's cock rub against the crack of his ass. Stiles couldn't help but arch into it, causing Derek to moan, which was a sound he could hear for the rest of his life and never tire of it._ _

__"Soon," Derek promised, and surprised him by skipping over the small of his back and instead spreading his cheeks wide and licking right across his pucker._ _

__Stiles pressed back against Derek's mouth, not caring about whatever words poured from his lips. It too much, too good, and he didn't care about anything but Derek continuing._ _

__"God, Stiles, you taste so good," Derek's voice was thick with want, and Stiles could feel Derek's thumb rubbing against him, pressing in just the tiniest bit before he was back to nipping Stiles' rim with his teeth.  
Derek's stubble was mostly blocked by the position of his hands, but the parts that rubbed against his skin felt smoother than he'd expected, soft, adding just enough sensation to make his skin tingle deliciously._ _

__No amount of time spent fingering himself while wanking could have prepared him for the way it felt when Derek pressed his finger inside of him. Stiles moved to get it in deeper, but Derek gripped his hip with his other hand and stilled him. "Stiles," Derek said, almost pleading, "just...let me."_ _

__"Yeah, yeah, just, oh god, _Derek_." Stiles tried to be good, tried to let Derek take his time, but every single inch of him felt about two seconds away from begging for more._ _

__Derek licked at him again, pressing another finger inside, stretching him with quick, eager movements. "I...you're..."_ _

__Stiles spread his knees a little bit wider, titled his hips as far as Derek would let him, and tried not to think about how badly he wanted to hump against the mattress just to get the tiniest bit of friction against his cock. Then he felt the strangest sensation along side the third finger Derek pushed inside of him. He turned enough to glance down at Derek over his shoulder, and saw the faintest lines traveling up Derek's arm. He had to muffle a laugh against the pillow, because _of course_. Scott and Isaac used their power to help puppies, and Derek used his to make sex easier. It, somehow, made it all the more perfect. _ _

__"Stiles," Derek said, a prayer and a warning all at once, because Derek half-crawled up the bed to mouth at his neck again as he finally, _finally_ pushed his cock inside. _ _

__As soon as Stiles could, he pressed back, wanting to feel every inch of Derek inside of him. Any illusion Derek had about going slow disappeared as Stiles fucked himself back on Derek's cock, with short, desperate jerks of his hips._ _

__"Jesus, Stiles, fuck, _fuck_ ," Derek panted out against his shoulder, moving his hands forward until their fingers were twined, his chest blanketed Stiles' back, and Derek's thighs, legs, were pressed tight against Stiles' own. The only space between them were the bare moments when Derek pulled out just enough to shove back in. _ _

__Stiles turned his head as much as he could, and finally let himself beg, "Derek, kiss me, please."_ _

__Before he could even finish speaking, Derek's lips were on his own, in a wet, messy kiss that was teeth and tongue and panting hot breath against each other's lips. "I'm...god, Stiles. I'm...it's...I'm going to fucking knot you," Derek vowed, "and then you'll be mine. Stiles, _Stiles_."_ _

__"Yes, oh god, yes, Derek. Do it. I want it. Now, please. Jesus. Knot me and I'll be fucking yours." Stiles didn't even know what he was saying anymore. He didn't care. Every thrust made him feel like he was two seconds away from coming. Derek wouldn't let go of his fingers to jerk himself, and Stiles just knew Derek wanted him to come from Derek's cock alone._ _

__"It's just details," Derek promised, biting at Stiles' ear. "You're already mine."_ _

__With that, Derek licked a path down to his shoulder, kissed it, and then bit the back of his neck while shoving his hips as far as he could against Stiles. He didn't know if it was the teeth at his neck, or the way Derek's cock was swelling in his ass, but Stiles came helplessly a moment later._ _

__Derek rolled to his side, taking Stiles with him. Every single burst of come inside of him sent shivers throughout his body. Stiles couldn't talk, couldn't think, because he was still reeling from intensity of his orgasm._ _

__It took him a moment to realize there was a hand rubbing at the skin right below his belly button. It grounded him in a way he didn't even know he needed. Derek hadn't stopped kissing the mark from the claiming bite on his shoulder. Stiles could feel Derek whisper something against his skin, but couldn't make it out. It didn't really matter what it was, Stiles thought he knew what it meant anyhow._ _

__Ten minutes later, Derek's knot receded enough for him to pull out, which subsequently sent Stiles' already sensitive nerves into overdrive. He flopped onto his back, and tried to find the will to walk to the bathroom to get cleaned up. On the other hand, Stiles figured there was no point if he was just going to get messy all over again._ _

__"Oh my god, tell me we can do that again as soon as the feeling returns to my legs," Stiles gasped out, staring wonderingly at the ceiling. Sex was the best thing ever; he’d totally called it._ _

__Derek lifted his head up from the pillow and glanced at him. "How are you still awake?"_ _

__"I'm very excitable."_ _

__There was a muffled chuckle. "I noticed."_ _

__"Hey, hey," Stiles managed to roll onto his side. "I didn't see you complaining."_ _

__"I wasn't," Derek said, mostly into the pillow. "Nap time."_ _

__"What about round two? Where's your Alpha pride?" Stiles cajoled. Because, dude, sex was brilliant and he should always be having it from now until forever._ _

__Derek snaked his arm out and snagged Stiles to curl closer to him. "Sleep now. Sex later."_ _

__Stiles turned around in Derek's arms and countered, "Sex now. Sleep later."_ _

__"Really?" Derek asked, opening one eye to look at him. "You're not tired at all, are you?"_ _

__Shifting closer so Derek could feel just how not tired he was, Stiles licked his lips. "Not really, no."_ _

__"I should have expected this," Derek said, but the complaint fell flat when Derek's fingers played with the come that leaked out of him._ _

__Stiles moaned his agreement against the skin of Derek's chest, then something occurred to him and he pulled back to look at Derek, whose fingers were now stroking inside of him. "It worked, ah, right? The power tha-thing. _Ohgodyes_. Did you feel it... um... course through you?"_ _

__Derek added another finger and said, "I felt something course through me. Can't say for sure it was power."_ _

__Stiles choked on a sound that was half laugh, half moan. "Yeah. So."_ _

__Cutting him off, Derek asked, "Do you want to talk about this now or am I going to flip you over and fuck you through the mattress again?"_ _

__"Between options one and two, I choose ‘B’," Stiles said fervently._ _

__"Good choice."_ _

____

***

"Why'd you say yes to this?" Derek asked, tone serious. It was completely unfair, too, because the room was dark, and Derek was plastered against his back, cock knotted and tying them together so Stiles couldn't pretend he had elsewhere to be or feign sleeping.

Stiles toyed with the pillowcase under his head and tried not to be distracted by the intermittent pulses of come inside of him. "To protect Dad. You knew that when I agreed."

"That's part of it," Derek agreed, "but it's not the only reason why."

"How do you know?" Stiles asked, because he hated giving away more than he had to with the annoying werewolf population.

Derek kissed his neck, shifted his hips a bit, and rubbed gently at his belly. "Because you're being far too agreeable."

"Ha!" Stiles said, and elbowed Derek (which only caused him pain). "Multiple orgasms hold sway over many a man, in many a situation."

He felt Derek tense behind him for a moment before relaxing again. "True," Derek said, his voice briefly tight. "But you agreed to this before any orgasms were involved. If you say it was because of 'the future promise of orgasms' or whatever it is you're going to say, I'll call bullshit and ask you again."

Feeling annoyed that Derek caught him out—that was exactly what he was going to say—Stiles pouted a moment. "Fine. Despite the fact all of this supernatural drama is to blame for the catastrophe that has become my life, I'm in it for the long haul. Not just to help Scott, but because I can't un-know what I know. And I can't stand around and let bad shit happen to people I care about. I may not be able to spout claws and howl at the moon, but I can do this. Not have hot sex, which I clearly am capable of doing, but being your mate. Helping you with the Alpha pack. It's something I can do. Something important."

Derek didn't respond, but Stiles hadn't expected him to because emotions tended to make Derek break out in hives. Stiles totally empathized with that. Derek pressed his lips to Stiles' neck again, giving him a quick squeeze, and whispered, "Thanks."

***

It took about two weeks for Stiles to notice something strange. To be fair to himself, he spent the entire fortnight vacillating between being extremely horny and having mind-blowing sex. It didn't occur to him until he was sitting at home, ready to commandeer his dad's patrol car—since his beloved Jeep was once more in the shop—to find Derek, that the intensity of his horniness was odd.

He called Derek, and said as soon as the phone picked up, "I think there's something strange going on."

"Explain," Derek bit out, and he could hear the clink of keys in the background.

Stiles gripped the arm of his chair. "I want your dick to an insane degree."

"Is this your attempt at dirty talk?" Derek asked, slow and amused.

"No!" Stiles bit out, frustrated. "Not to dismiss your sexilicious charms, but it's more than that. I mean. I know regular teenage horniness, and this isn't it. And it's not just that I get to actually have all the sex I'm fantasizing about, either. And believe me I know what level of being turned on is normal for me. It's never been like this. Not even after I saw Lydia naked—although, there was the whole crazy girl lost in the woods things to detract from it—or the time I saw her in nothing but her nightie—but that also had the downer of her being drugged out of her mind and then calling me Jackson—but, still, point remains."

"Stiles," Derek said, exasperated.

He sighed. "Derek, I'm so hot for your dick right now that I'm actually restraining myself from stealing my dad's car to track you down and tear off your clothes and ride you until I can't move."

"Are you sure this isn't a bad attempt at dirty talk?"

"I'd bang you even if I knew Peter was in the room."

There was a moment of thick silence and then Derek said firmly, "I'm coming over."

As soon as Derek hung up, Stiles tore off his clothes and flung himself on the bed. He felt like he was vibrating out of his skin. First, they'd have sex. Then, they could discuss what the hell was going on. But the important thing was that Derek fucked him first, otherwise he wouldn't be able to concentrate on forming coherent thoughts.

***

The bed was a mess of sheets and sweat and come when Stiles glanced over at Derek, still slightly breathless, and said, "Now, about why I called you. Sooo… I kinda want to bone you all the time."

Derek glanced over at his face, then let his gaze trail down the length of his body to where the sheets were pooled around their waists, and then back up to Stiles' face. And then he started laughing. Hard. Five minutes later he was mostly under control and asked, "Are you sure about that?"

"Shut up, dude. You know what I meant. Like I'm supernaturally randy or something. It's as distracting as it is rewarding. Can you channel your inner wolfman and super scent out what's going on?"

Rolling his eyes, Derek shifted onto his side and pushed himself up with his elbow. "Let me…" he said, trailing off. He ran his nose along Stiles neck, up to the skin behind his ear, and back down again until he reached the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

"Get anything good?" Stiles asked, ignoring the way his cock gave a feeble twitch of interest. If his life ever stopped being in danger, quick recovery and stamina was a check-mark in the plus column for getting turned.

Derek mumbled something like an agreement against his throat and then proceeded to distract Stiles from the conversation for another forty minutes.

It wasn't until they were tied, again, Derek rubbing his hands up and down Stiles' sides that he even had enough brain power to continue the conversation. "Um…" Stiles said, clenching around Derek's knot. "Smell anything?" Small words were good. Easy to make.

"You," Derek replied, seemingly disinterested in elaborating.

Stiles sighed. "What about me?"

"Smell good," Derek said, and then he promptly fell asleep, nose tucked into the nape of his neck.

Typical.

***

It occurred to Stiles the following morning as he stuffed his disgusting sheets into the washer that it'd been over two weeks since he'd last seen Scott, too busy floating around in an orgasmic haze.

"Dude, you wanna come over?" Stiles said when Scott answered the phone. He agreed and Stiles went back to mentally composing haiku about Derek's dick. _Suddenly it grows. In the middle of the night. Curly fries are good._ Whatever, he wasn't a poet, okay?

Scott showed up about ten minutes after Stiles had finished remaking his bed with clean, unsaturated-with-come-sheets. "Ugh," he complained, flumping down on Stiles' hard work. "I'm tired."

"Why?" Stiles asked, hoping it wasn't something related to Allison. Sure, Scott loved her, but she also went over the edge and Stiles didn't want to fight with Scott if he couldn't keep his opinions to himself, which he rarely ever did with Scott.

Scott looked at him like it should be obvious. "Dealing with the Alpha pack all the time."

From what Derek said, all he asked Scott to do was run a few circuits around the woods and town to track where their scents were. Stiles tried very hard to muster up some sympathy for him. A good friend would offer a distraction to someone who looked so clearly downtrodden by the cruel, cruel world. And Stiles was a very good friend indeed.

With a sigh, Stiles sat down next to him. "Tell me about it. That _is_ exhausting. Every single day, man."

"What do you mean?" Scott asked, bemused. "You never said anything about Derek making you help with the Alpha pack."

"Oh, he's not making me," Stiles said, grin curling his lips. "Well, in a manner of speaking he is _making me_ , but I totally volunteered."

Scott sat up and gave him a look that begged for an explanation. "You're not taking too much Adderall again just so you can do research for him, are you?"

"Nah, dude," Stiles said, waving a hand at him. "I agreed to be his mate. For the power boost. But we weren't sure if it was just being mated that gave him a power boost or if each time you mated with your mate it gave you a boost. So, we're covering allllll the bases." Stiles tried not to laugh at the look of utter revulsion on Scott's face. "I boost his power two, three times a day, now, at least."

" _What?_ How are you doing that? How are you keeping your heart steady? It's like as if you're telling the truth." Scott looked a bit wild around the edges as he paced Stiles' floor.

Stiles simply reclined against his pillows and gave him a cheeky grin. "Who said I'm lying?"

"You don't even like him," Scott said, sitting down heavily in Stiles' computer chair.

"When did I ever say that?" Stiles deflected, stretching a bit. "I don't remember saying that."

Scott glared at him. "It was less than a month ago!"

"Oh, yeah," Stiles said, smiling. "Well, he put up a pretty persuasive argument in his favor."

"The sex," Scott said flatly. "That you're having with the Alpha. The guy who you asked Allison to shoot in the head with a crossbow."

"Forgive and forget, that's what I say," Stiles said because all those things were true; they just didn't seem important anymore. And, honestly, did Scott actually want to go there? The amount of shit Stiles had to deal with because Scott insisted on boning the daughter of the bugfuck craziest hunter family in existence negated any room Scott had to judge.

"Whatever, dude," Scott said, deflating. Then he sat up again and pointed at Stiles. "Wait a minute. So, you're saying your contribution to dealing with this Alpha pack is getting laid?"

"Not just getting laid," Stiles countered. "Getting laid _a lot_." Stiles thought perhaps mentioning the fact that there seemed to be some sort of Alpha mating magic mojo amping up his already pretty damned active libido wasn't a great idea. Scott would probably attack Derek, blaming him when it was mostly Stiles demanding Derek fulfill his duties as both his Alpha and mate. (And that was mainly because calling Derek the Alpha was the quickest way to get him to do what Stiles wanted, namely Stiles.)

"So, what," Scott said, looking a bit green. "He comes over here. For that. His 'power boost'. Then leaves?"

"We also talk about stuff, too," Stiles added, but neglected to mention that mostly what they talked about was their favorite movies, debates over baseball, and which decade produced the best music. For reasons he was currently not dissecting, Stiles was content to leave all the conversations they had when they were tied to himself. "Yanno. In between all the fantastic sex."

"Aren't you..." Scott started to ask, before breaking off into a furious blush.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Aren't I...what? Smarter than all the werewolves, combined? Devilishly handsome and charming? Having both better quantity and quality sex than you? Yes, to all of them."

"No," Scott said, scowling and Stiles could see him visibly resist arguing over the last point, which pleased him greatly. Payback was a bitch. "I meant aren't you, yanno, sore?" Scott whispered the last word as if saying it quietly would make the conversation less awkward.

Stiles stretched a bit on the bed, flexing his limbs. He felt good—better than, actually—and just the slightest bit ready for Scott to get back to whatever annoying werewolf duties Derek had assigned him so he could see about possibly arranging a booty call. "Nope. Derek works his mojo," Stiles said, flexing his hand to illustrate, "while we're going at it. Works like a charm."

"Ugh," Scott said feelingly. "TMI, dude."

"Do you really want to go there?" Stiles asked, glancing at his nails, glancing at Scott out of the corner of his eye. "If you really wanted, I could give you the same level of details you gave me when you started sleeping with Allison."

"Hey," Scott said, smiling brightly, too brightly. "I just remembered I was supposed to go do something. An essay. It's due tomorrow. Bye!"

"It's summertime, dumbass," Stiles yelled down the stairs after Scott, who didn't deign to reply when he jetted out the door. "It's just too easy."

Stiles went back into his room and flopped down on his bed. It had been too long since he'd last seen Derek and his belly squirmed a bit just thinking of him. Everything below his waist felt tight and warm and tingled with anticipation, so he picked up his phone and sent a quick text to Derek to let him know the house was empty of everything but him.

Derek was on his bed, on him, _in him_ less than ten minutes later. Sometimes, Derek could be so _slow_.

***

"Stiles!" Scott yelled loudly into the earpiece of the phone. Stiles pulled it away a bit and grimaced.

"Yes, Scott?" Stiles asked pleasantly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Change the ringback tone!" Scott demanded. "It's not funny."

Sniggering into his pillow, Stiles replied, "I disagree. It's very funny. And a PSA all rolled into one. Barring pronoun issues and such."

"I do not want to hear "I Just Had Sex" every time I call you," Scott said, petulant, and Derek chuckled. "Hey! Tell me Derek's not over there. He only goes over when you two are... Ugh!"

Stiles tried, and failed, not to laugh. "I did say it was a PSA, did I not? I changed Derek's, too. To "You Shook Me All Night Long."

"I hate you," Scott growled and hung up.

Chucking the phone back on the side table, Stiles turned and glanced at Derek over his shoulder. He'd stopped thrusting when Stiles had answered the phone. "Quit slacking."

***

Later, when Stiles fetched his phone, he found a series of expletive laced texts from Scott and then a final one which simply said, _Wut abt Lydia?_

Stiles sent back _Wut abt her?_ because it was amazing how much a couple of weeks of constant sex and company and fun could put things in perspective. Sure, maybe Derek had more baggage than an airport, but Derek was always around and he hadn't heard from Lydia once since her 'love' cured Jackson. It wasn't so bad to relegate his crush on Lydia to fond—and not so fond—memories of his past and to start focusing on what, and who, he did have.

_u used 2 rite poems abt her._

_wnt 2 hear my haiku abt Derek's dick?_

_NO! IHU!_

Stiles snorted and tossed his phone back on his night stand. One day it would stop being fun harassing Scott when he was being a jerk. Today was not that day.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked, he lifted his head off Stiles' belly and gave him a sleepy-eyed glare.

"Harassing Scott," Stiles replied with a small poke to the center of Derek's forehead.

Derek snorted. "Harass him more quietly. I'm trying to sleep."

"On me," Stiles pointed out. It wasn't a complaint, though, not really.

"How observant," Derek muttered, closing his eyes again. He reached up blindly and covered Stiles' face with his hand. "Sleep."

"I feel like I'm forgetting something," Stiles said, shifting down a bit so he could rest his head on his pillows. Derek grumpily waited for him to settle down before placing his head back on Stiles' belly.

"You're forgetting to shut up and go to sleep."

"No, I'm remembering to do the opposite of what you say just to piss you off."

"Achievement unlocked."

Stiles laughed before he could stop himself. "I didn't even have to teach you that reference. I'm proud."

"I didn't spend the last six years living in a cave in the woods."

Rolling his eyes, Stiles ran his fingers through Derek's hair. To annoy him, not pet him. Derek, the contrary bastard, let out a pleased sound in response. "About the dickhead werewolves descending upon our beloved town...aren't we supposed to be doing something about them? Other than fucking?"

Derek sighed heavily. "Scott and I have worked out an arrangement on keeping track of them."

"I had wondered why Scott was listening to you. And actually doing what you asked. It was odd. I was about to start looking for a pod."

"You're hilarious." Derek curled his hand around Stiles' hip. "We're not doing anything because _they're_ not doing anything, yet."

Stiles was surprised that Derek was even contemplating a sane, rational 'wait and see' approach. He'd gone in claws blazing into way too many situations for Stiles to have any faith in Derek's diplomatic skills. "Good boy. Remind me to give you a treat."

"It'd be a treat if you shut the hell up and let me sleep."

It was almost too much of a temptation to argue back, but Stiles _was_ a bit tired and Derek _had_ used his brain and Stiles believed in rewarding good behavior, so he closed his eyes and kept playing with Derek's hair until he fell asleep.

***

"I think something even stranger is happening to me." Stiles didn't even know how to explain. His face heated up just thinking about it.

"What?" Derek asked, looking concerned. At least this time, he didn't have the 'you sure this isn't dirty talk' expression on his face.

Stiles kicked at the corner of his bed and did his best to avoid Derek's gaze. "So, there's this thing with... yanno. My... uh..." Stiles waved his hand in the general vicinity of his ass. "It's different. Inside. I've been... uh. Wet?"

The silence in the room was thick and tense. "Show me."

"Show you?" Stiles yelped. "What do you mean, show you?"

"I mean exactly that. Show me." Derek got to his feet and glowered at Stiles until he began shucking off his clothes. Not exactly a new experience for them, these days, but it felt more awkward than it had been that first time. He crawled onto the bed on all fours and buried his face in a pillow and tried to pretend he was doing anything else but letting Derek analyze his anus. Because it was beyond bizarre and with everything that'd happened recently, that was saying something.

"Oh," Derek said, spreading his cheeks apart and rubbing his thumb along the rim. He pressed one finger inside and Stiles bit down on a moan. " _Oh._ "

"Hey," Stiles said, turning his face just enough to speak clearly. "You're getting off on this. That's... I don't even know." He was too embarrassed to even make a crack about playing Dirty Doctor and Naughty Nurse. If he ever stopped being horrified by the situation, he'd have to save that one for later.

"Shut up," Derek said, voice low. "Let me." And with that, he was spreading Stiles wider, pushing his finger in deeper. It felt different than before, deeper, and Stiles suddenly couldn't stand another minute without Derek inside of him.

"Fuck me, then," Stiles groaned. "Quit playing and just fuck me."

***

Stiles waited all of ten seconds for Derek to continue playing with his ass before he squirmed off the bed. Derek still looked in a bit of a daze, so Stiles shoved and tugged and prodded at him until he was sitting up at the head of Stiles' bed, naked and hard, just the way Stiles wanted him.

"Guide it in," Stiles demanded after he'd crawled back on the bed, and moved to straddle Derek backwards. "I can't see from this position."

Derek hurried to obey, gripping Stiles' shoulder with one hand, and pressing his cock inside Stiles with other. Stiles sat back as soon as the head of Derek's cock was fully inside him. 

"Oh, god that feels so fucking good," Stiles groaned, letting his head fall back against Derek's shoulder. "Kiss me."

"Bossy," Derek mumbled, but kissed him anyway, running his hand down Stiles' chest and belly until he wrapped it around Stiles' dick.

He'd been too horny, too desperate to last for long. Stiles reached down and gripped the arm jacking him around the wrist, digging in his nails, and came.

Derek panted wetly against his neck, stilling his hand only when Stiles made him. "God, can I?"

Nodding mutely, Stiles allowed Derek to shift them onto their sides, where Derek wrapped his hand around the back of Stiles' knee, spreading his legs wide as he thrust. "Jesus, Derek," Stiles cursed, already feeling himself get hard again. Everything inside felt wet and deep, and every thrust echoed wetly in the room, making Stiles torn between arousal and embarrassment over how needy his body sounded, even to his own ears.

If anything, it seemed to turn Derek on even more than he usually was if Stiles went by the multitude of hickies Stiles felt Derek sucking along his neck and shoulders. "I just want your dick in me all the time," he admitted shamelessly. "It's so good, so thick. Perfect for me. Fits so good. Want your knot all the time."

"Fuck," Derek yelled, hips thrusting faster than Stiles thought possible in this position. Then, as if beckoned by his words alone, Stiles felt the familiar pressure of Derek's knot growing inside of him, feeling more right than it ever had, like his body had changed just so it could take it better than he'd ever done before.

His second orgasm came at him like a surprise, washing over him before he'd ever registered getting hard again.

"Stiles," Derek panted, another burst of come coating his channel, "god, I can't even think around you." 

It was the same for him, even if Stiles didn't want to admit it, so he just twisted enough so the could kiss.

Kissing beat talking any day.

***

"Derek," Stiles said, grateful that he couldn't see Derek's face when they were tied like this. It made it easier to talk. "Why, uh, is my body changing? I don't remember reading about this. All it said about Alpha mates was blah, blah, an increase in power, blah, blah, mystical life force energy, something, something, soul bond."

"I'm not exactly sure," Derek said, sounding pained by the admission. "I never knew any Alphas with human mates. We could ask Deaton."

"Ugh," Stiles said, feelingly. "Do we have to?"

Derek kissed behind his ear and Stiles could feel him shrug. "The only other person I can think to ask is Peter."

"I was afraid of that." Stiles clenched his eyes close for a moment. "Deaton it is."

"It'll be fine," Derek said, trying his best to simultaneously offer him comfort and come in his ass. That was his Alpha: king of multitasking. "Just relax and we'll sort this out tomorrow."

***

Stiles pushed the cart around the grocery store and tried not to think about his upcoming visit to Deaton's with Derek. He had the feeling that he was going to regret finding out what was going on with him.

He was staring at a package of Not Dogs, wondering if his dad would taste the difference when someone bumped into his cart. Stiles looked up and saw a woman in her late twenties looking incredibly stressed and obviously pregnant. It took a moment of being viciously jealous before he came back to himself long enough to say, "Do you need help?"

"No, thank you," she said, and waddled off in the other direction, muttering about needing cottage cheese with pineapple chunks in it and green pimento olives.

Stiles stared down at the floor, stymied. Why, _why_ had he looked at her belly and thought _I wish that were me._ That was crazy, it was. Crazy. He obviously had spent too much of his summer in his room, inhaling the sex fumes, instead of going outdoors in the sunshine. (Privately, Stiles still didn't understand Derek's resistance to doing it in the woods or the backseat of the Camaro, but Derek usually derailed most of his arguments by sucking his cock. It worked like a charm. Sometimes Stiles even came up with stupid suggestions just because he liked the way Derek distracted him.)

Trying to get his thoughts off Derek and back on the current weirdness infecting his life, Stiles tossed the Not Dogs into the cart and decided ketchup and mustard could hide a multitude of sins. A few minutes later, he saw the woman again, rubbing her hand absently against her belly, and fought the urge to text Derek and order him to step it up. But that was insane. There was no place for Derek to step. And Stiles didn't want to be pregnant, not really. It was just an odd idea that got trapped in one of his weird brainwaves. What he needed was a little sex with a little knotting and Derek willing to indulge in one of his many role-playing suggestions.

Stiles refused, adamantly, to consider the implications otherwise.

He picked up the _We Can't Say It's Cheese_ spread and chucked it in the basket.

Dad probably wouldn't forgive him for shopping when he was in a mood.

Oh, well. Schadenfreude. It was a thing.

***

_Hairy shaft and balls_  
Knot what you're looking for?  
Speedos. Make a note.

Stiles sent Scott the text while he waited for Derek to arrive at Deaton's.

_ill tell ur dad abt disneyland_

Oooh, Stiles thought as he read the text. His buddy was finally growing into his claws. _ill tell ur mom abt KFC_

Derek pulled in the parking lot and got out of his car, smiling when he saw Stiles. And it hit Stiles that it'd been over a month since the last time he'd seen Derek brood.

Scott shot him back: _truce?_ and Stiles figured he could leave off the harassment for a day, so he agreed.

"Hey," Stiles said as soon as Derek reached him. "I just noticed that you seemed," Stiles paused, not knowing how to put it without sounding like a dick, "happier lately? What's up?"

Derek's expression folded into confusion for a moment before he said, slowly, "I now devote several hours every day to having sex with you, Stiles. Of course, I'm in a better mood."

"Oh!" Stiles replied, incredibly pleased. "Well, can't let up on your daily dose of happiness. Withdrawal is a bitch, so I hear."

Derek ruffled his hair and gave his neck a quick squeeze, nodding at the door. "Ready to go in?"

"If I said 'no', could we pretend nothing's happening and have a quickie in the back of your car?"

Smirking a little, Derek shook his head. "No. You've stood up to every single werewolf and supernatural creature in this town over the last eight months. Don't tell me you're going to let a little talk with the vet scare you off."

That's right, Stiles thought. He was one badass motherfucker and no one better forget it. Otherwise he'd bleed in their general direction after getting his ass kicked. "Yeah, let's go."

"Hello," Dr. Deaton greeted, his trademark placid smile on his face. "What brings you here today, gentlemen?"

Stiles and Derek eyed each other, both trying to silently goad the other into explaining. Finally, Stiles just sighed and gave Dr. Deaton a pained grimace. "So, um. We mated? And now. Uh. Stuff's changing," Stiles pointed at the floor, "down there."

"The floor, Mr. Stilinski?" Deaton asked, because he was secretly a _dick_.

Stiles scowled. "You know what I mean."

"Ah, yes, it so happens that I do," Deaton said, failing to elaborate in favor of giving Derek an 'I'm totally judging you' stare.

"Well," Stiles asked, tapping his foot. He really didn't know how everyone was fooled into thinking Deaton was a nice guy. He really wasn't.

Deaton turned his attention back to Stiles and gave him a 'you're totes fucked, babe' smirk. "It appears that you're preparing yourself for your first heat. As is custom shortly after mating and will continue to happen periodically throughout a mate's fertile years."

"Hold up, hold up," Stiles said, illustrating his point by raising his hand. "Heat? Fertile years? I'm a dude and so is he," Stiles jutted his thumb over his shoulder to Derek, whose face lost a bit of color and whose eyebrows had risen almost to his hairline.

"And, normally, that would make it an entirely non-issue. However, as is often the case with the supernatural world, different rules apply."

"How do we stop it?" Derek asked, finally having found his voice. Stiles would be proud, but he was too anxious to hear the answer.

Deaton's entire demeanor radiated smugness when he said, "His heat will end with his pregnancy, of course. Don't worry, Stiles. It's very likely that you'll find yourself very willing, enthusiastic even, to gestate when your heat fully manifests."

Stiles opened and closed his mouth a few times, pointing at Deaton with an accusatory finger. He was enjoying this far too much, the fucker. However, no words would come to him and it didn't help that he was starting to feel the warm curl in his belly that meant that his need for Derek would soon demand his attention. "I think I need to go home now."

Deaton just smiled and nodded like it was the best idea he'd ever heard and muttered something to Derek as he left.

"I'll meet you there in a bit," Derek said, and stayed behind to find out whatever vague bullshit Deaton wanted to heap on him.

Stiles got into his Jeep, took a few deep breaths, and tried to think of the upsides. For one, he no longer had to be jealous of random pregnant ladies in the grocery store. And even better, just think of the loads of material he'd have with which to harass Scott. There were other things, he was sure, even if he couldn't think of them.

His head was so full of everything he'd just heard that he started to drive home on autopilot. "Damn," he muttered to himself when he realized he was more than halfway home already. It'd be much harder to badger Derek into spilling whatever crap Deaton had to say if had time to prepare for Stiles waylaying him.

When he got home, he headed straight to the kitchen because Derek was at least twenty percent more pliable when fed and Stiles could use the time to think. He grabbed a box of Kraft, because Derek was easily impressed by the miracle that was boiling water on a stove.

It wouldn't be so bad, would it? There were bonuses to the whole situation. He could...torment Scott a bit. That was a plus. Then there was all the sex he'd be having to get pregnant. Now, that was something he could get behind. More sex. All the sex. Epic levels of sex, even. Stiles reached into the fridge and pulled out the milk and butter.

Derek came through the front door as he stirred in the powdered cheese. "Kraft?"

He sounded stupidly excited about the prospect of processed cheese and Stiles didn't find it adorable in the least. "Yep. So, what did Deaton have to say?"

The scowl on Derek's face said that he knew exactly what Stiles was doing, but apparently he was willing to be bribed, because he answered as soon Stiles passed him a bowl and a fork. "He wanted to warn me about how your heat will affect me and how to deal with it."

"Lemme guess, you're going to turn into a furry caveman?" Stiles asked, then scrunched his face. "My Stiles. No Touch! Grrrr."

"Pretty much," Derek agreed, between bites, sounding aggrieved.

Stiles sat down across from him, expression sly. "So, if I flirted with someone, you'd, what, beat 'em up and then take me home to have your wicked way with me?"

"If you flirt with either Jackson or my uncle, I may lose the will to ever get it up again."

"Damnit. Another perfect plan dashed, ruined, destroyed!"

Derek just gave him a look. "You'll survive."

"I guess that means I'm going to spend the rest of summer inside for the most part," Stiles complained, wondering if Derek would let him steal a bite of Kraft or if he'd stab him with the fork. "God knows what my dad thinks I've been doing holed up in my room all summer. Especially since I've been washing my sheets every other day, no thanks to you."

"I never hear you complaining," Derek said, curling his hand around the bowl so he could better protect it. Damn, Stiles must have been projecting his intentions again. He needed to work on that.

Stiles just scoffed. "Of course you do. All the time."

"Oh, Derek, do it harder," Derek said in an irritating falsetto. "Yeah, that's not a complaint."

"You are the worst."

"That's not what you said last night." Derek got up and walked over to sink to wash his bowl and fork and thus missed the dirty look Stiles sent him.

"I'm never going to say the things I never said last night ever again," Stiles vowed. "Oh yeah, wash the pan, too. I am going to my room so I can ignore that fact you exist."

"You do that," Derek said, and grabbed the pan off the stove.

Stiles escaped to his room, intending on immersing himself in some sort of research so he could pretend Derek was an invisible phantom for the next two hours. Except, once he got up there, all he could think about was the things he most definitely did not say to Derek the night before and all the things Derek did to get him to not say those things he didn't say.

His clothes hit the floor before he had time to change his mind and he flung himself on the bed.

"Hey," Stiles said when Derek opened the door to his bedroom. Derek looked the slightest bit dumbstruck, likely dealing with the whiplash of Stiles' emotions going from irritated to horny in under five minutes. He didn't even move when Stiles beckoned him over. "I'm not gonna knock up myself, Oh Alpha, My Alpha, so come on and get to work."

"With an offer like that," Derek said, voice sounding rough, "how could I refuse?"

***

Derek was a firm presence behind him when Stiles' brain cleared enough to register his surroundings. Stiles clenched around Derek's knot, eyes widening in realization. "Oh my god, what're you doing?" he asked, trying to awkwardly turn to glare at Derek over his shoulder. "What am _I_ doing?"

"What?" Derek asked, voice still stupid with sex. "You told me to?"

Stiles scowled. "When has that ever been incentive enough to do stupid things?"

Derek rubbed Stiles' belly in comfort, probably because he couldn't figure out anything to say in his defense.

"You're into this!" Stiles accused, trying to glare at Derek again. "You want to knock me up with your weirdo mystical Alpha sperm and your weirdo mystical Alpha junk!"

"Um," Derek said, and Stiles could feel another burst of come inside of him. "No?"

"Liar," Stiles said, suddenly tired. "Fine, fine. I blame you."

"For what?" Derek asked, sounding more amused than anything, which led Stiles to believe Derek was still floating in the good-judgment altering orgasmic haze instead of firing on all cylinders.

Stiles tried not get horny again, and failed, when Derek's hand dipped lower than his belly and onto his cock. "For everything. Just. Everything."

"Want me to stop?" Derek sounded like he meant it even if his voice was still tinged with humor.

Wrapping his hand around Derek's, Stiles helped him jack his cock properly. "No," he said, petulant. "Just do it right."

***

"I don't care what Deaton said, there's no way I'm ever going to think this is a good idea," Stiles said, vehemently. "Actually, I'm fairly sure this is one of the worst I've ever been privy to."

Derek sat passively in the chair at Stiles' desk. "You can't argue your way out of your heat."

"Watch me," Stiles said, "If I managed to convince Scott to dye his pubes green because it'd make his junk look bigger, then I can most certainly argue myself out of crazy mating hormones."

"Don't hurt yourself," Derek said, and Stiles took a minute to decide whether he was being mocking or sweet. He settled on mocking, because it'd work in his favor, but he had a feeling it was actually the latter.

Stiles tossed a pillow at Derek's head, which was caught because Derek was a jerk who never let him have any fun. "I'm not going to breed you a litter of sourwolves, Alphornicator."

"Don't call me that," Derek said, tossing the pillow back, hitting him in the face. Stiles glared at Derek, then tucked the pillow under his head.

"Whatever," Stiles muttered. He'd call Derek whatever he wanted to call him. "I don't think even my undoubtedly superior DNA can overcome the deficit of yours."

"What's wrong with my genes?" Derek asked, not even bothering to sound offended. Stiles focused on the area below Derek's belt because whenever he looked at Derek's face, he wanted to kiss it. Jerk.

Stiles huffed. "What isn't? Your baby would probably scowl at me non-stop and insist on leather diapers."

"Don't forget the sunglasses," Derek added helpfully.

"You're no fun when you play along," Stiles complained, and then went back to staring at the bulge in Derek's jeans. "Wouldn't mind if you got naked, though."

"You want sex?" Derek asked, shifting in the chair. Stiles didn't know if it was his imagination, but it looked as if Derek's cock throbbed in response. "Now?"

"Yeah, now," Stiles agreed, "but if you knock me up, I'll tear off your nuts and play Lacrosse with them."

"Sexy," Derek said, because he was a bitch.

Just when Stiles decided to get up from his bed to be more proactive in his tempting Derek into playing his favorite game: Fun With Penises, Derek's phone started singing _He did the Mash. He did the Monster Mash_.

Stiles bit his lip to stop himself from cracking up over the look of utter loathing Derek sent him before he answered the call.

"What?" Derek greeted, charming as always. "Fine. Whatever. I'll be there soon."

"Is it an actual emergency?" Stiles asked the minute Derek ended the call. "Or did one of your puppies make a mess on the carpet again?"

Derek didn't grouch about him calling his poor life choices one, two, and three puppies, so Stiles got to his feet, anxious.

"Stiles," Derek said, apparently sensing his distress. "It's nothing." The look on his face must have conveyed something along the lines of _bullshit_ , because Derek immediately amended, "It's nothing you need to worry about. Peter just got an email from an old friend. It had some information that might be relevant. They're going to be on Skype later. Peter wants me there."

"I'd ask to come along, but I really don't want to see your creepy ass uncle just yet." Stiles moved around Derek to sit down at his desk. He could get back to work on some of the more frustrating translations if he wasn't going to get to have sex.

"Try not to get in trouble," Derek said, leaning down to give him a kiss. "I have patrol tonight, so I won't be able to come back until tomorrow."

Stiles smiled. "Get into trouble and host a wild sex party in your absence. Check."

Derek looked heavenward for a moment, then gave Stiles another kiss, longer and deeper than the last. "Tomorrow."

***

"So," Stiles said, giving Derek the most earnest expression he could muster. "I think I was being too hasty the other day. You can infect me with your mutant Alpha sperm any time you want."

Derek eyebrows twisted in confusion, his lips turned down at the corners. "Didn't you say it was the worst idea ever just yesterday?"

"I'm sure I was talking about something else," Stiles said as he got to his feet, shirt dangling from his hand. "Quite, quite sure. This is clearly the best idea ever."

"Yesterday, you threatened to castrate me if I got you pregnant," Derek said, edging closer to Stiles, despite anything he said to contrary.

Shucking his pants and boxers, Stiles stood naked in the middle of his room, arms spread wide. "You know you want a piece of this."

"You also made disparaging remarks about my genetics," Derek pointed out, cupping Stiles' hips with his hands."

"Can I appeal to your big bad Alpha nature?" Stiles asked, rubbing his hands along Derek's chest as he slowly removed his shirt. "Don't you want to claim me? Make everyone know I'm yours? Drown me in your scent?"

"You sound like a bad porno," Derek commented as Stiles unbuckled his belt, not acknowledging that Stiles was just repeating what Derek had panted in his ears just two days ago.

"I learn from the best," Stiles said, grinning up at him as he pushed Derek's jeans to the floor. "I mean wouldn't you being my baby daddy totally say I belong to the Alpha better than anything else?"

"I'll do whatever you want if you never call me your baby daddy ever again," Derek said with just the slightest tinge of exasperation in his voice. Stiles figured the fact that Derek was thick and hard against his belly left that up to future negotiations.

Right now, all Stiles really cared about was Derek getting with the program. He didn't care what he thought yesterday. He didn't care what made sense yesterday. Today was different. Today, Stiles wanted what he wanted and he intended to get it.

***

After that, it hit him like a freight train. The need. It was more intense than his needing to get boned by Derek phase. It was worse. So much worse. Because this time? Derek wasn't unaffected. Stiles spent an ungodly amount of time on his hands and knees, voice hoarse from demanding Derek just fucking knot him, already, what the hell was he waiting for?

Derek, unlike every other time Stiles could remember in the distant past, actually followed orders and did as he was asked.

Still, despite all that, the weird undeniable craving just got more and more intense to the point where Stiles was actually losing sleep over it.

He glanced over his shoulder at Derek who was staring down at his ass like it was the answer to every question he ever asked and bit out, "If you don't get me pregnant soon, I swear to god I will take up taxidermy for the sole purpose of learning to stuff and mount your corpse after I kill you."

Derek fucked into him with two short thrusts and said, "Yes, god yes, whatever you want."

***

Stiles could tell when he was pregnant because, as soon as it happened, he suddenly recalled in vivid detail what a bad idea it was. "This can only end in tears," he said to Derek, who was too busy snoring on his chest to do much in the way of responding.

"Tears and gun violence," Stiles continued, because if his dad responded with anything less than his shotgun, Stiles would eat his surfboard. Stiles' dad would find out, somehow, and then he'd kill Derek with the force of his brain and also his gun, and then he'd make Stiles help him cover it up, because it would sort of be Stiles' fault he was guilty of manslaughter. "And he'll probably ask me to police his shell casings."

Derek lifted his head from Stiles' chest, looking sleepy-eyed and annoyed, which was both adorable and frightening, and asked, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"My dad's going to kill you and force me to cover it up!" Stiles said, wide-eyed and panicked. "It can't possibly be good for our baby for me to be a party to any more crime."

"Did you say _baby_?" Derek asked, looking more than a little shell shocked.

Stiles scowled at him. "Did you think we were trying out for the Olympics or something?"

"I just," Derek said, brow furrowed, "it didn't seem connected to anything real."

"Well," Stiles said, feeling unaccountably pissy. "Lucky you, mating imperatives for werewolves exist. Woohoo."

"Are you all right?" Derek asked, cautious in a way he never was with Stiles. His Alpha senses were probably tingling, warning him about upcoming danger.

"I honestly don't even know how to answer that question right now," Stiles said, closing his eyes. "Who votes to pretend this isn't happening until we have no other choice? Yay, the vote passes, two to nil. Let's go to sleep."

Derek just sighed, kissed him, and then slumped back where he had been before, sleeping on Stiles' chest.

"Of all the failwolves, in all the world, you had to be the one to knock me up," Stiles said, giving Derek a disgruntled look. "I can't believe I even just said that."

"Shut up," Derek said, muffled against his skin. "Go to sleep."

"Fine." Stiles closed his eyes because he wanted to and not because Derek said to. So there.

***

If Stiles thought things with would calm down a bit after he got knocked up, he was mistaken. So very mistaken. His hormones were still off the wall, the Alpha pack had done nothing—which was nice, in theory, but incredibly unnerving in actuality—and Derek set out in all earnestness to redefine crazy.

He'd woken up in the middle of the night from a nightmare about giving birth to a very furry alien facehugger. Derek had distracted him from babbling his growing panic by kissing him quiet and then fucking him stupid. Which Stiles had well and truly appreciated as a treatment for his anxiety. Derek had curled up with him, after, and rubbed his belly and whispered how he'd keep Stiles safe, no matter what, and since Stiles was still basking in a rather warm afterglow, he had no idea Derek wasn't just being a dumb sap.

Which was why Scott was sitting in his room, looking slightly aggrieved, and Stiles was mentally composing a list of sex acts Derek would have to perform in contrition.

"I don't see why you need a babysitter," Scott said, pouting at his phone. "I had to cancel a date with Allison for this."

"Way to make me feel like a chore, buddy," Stiles said, joking. Because it didn't bother him at all that Scott acted like hanging out with him was some unwanted burden. Nope. Or that Derek had even noticed something and obviously orchestrated this so he could spend more time with his friend, who he'd barely seen since summer started. No, it didn't bother him in the least.

"Sorry," Scott said, instantly contrite. "It's just that you've never needed a babysitter before."

Stiles looked at him, sighing, and decided that now would be the time to tell Scott about heats and fertile cycles and babies. So he did, and he took in every single nuance of Scott's face while he did it, reveling in each frown, wince, green tinge, and smirk.

When he was done, he sat back and waited expectantly for Scott's response.

"So," Scott said, slow and deliberate. He looked at Stiles' face, then drifted down to his still-flat stomach and back up again. "This means you're going to have like... six kids by the time you're thirty, right?"

Stiles had never wanted to punch Scott more than he did right then. "Oh my _god_. Can I at least get through this pregnancy without thinking about going through a repeat?"

Just then, Derek called.

"Hey," Stiles said, still eyeing Scott like he wanted to stab him in both eyes with a dildo.

"Is Scott there?" Derek asked, because phone manners escaped him.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yes, Papa bear, don't worry."

"I'm not worried," Derek lied. "I just wanted to make sure he wasn't slacking off."

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles placated. "I'll see you later."

"Tonight," Derek said, then hung up. Stiles looked down at the phone and thought of another thing to add to his list.

"Ugh," Scott said. "Stop that."

"What?" Stiles placed the phone back on the desk and wondered if he could get Derek to do that thing with his tongue again.

"That face," Scott said, pointing his finger at him menacingly. "That's the face you have when you're thinking up poetry about Derek's junk."

Stiles grinned. " _It's long, hard, tasty. Going where others cannot. What, what, in my butt."_

"You are the worst."

Nodding, Stiles agreed. "I try my best."

***

Stiles figured that Scott's incessant whining over the past week or so must have gotten to Derek, because his babysitter for the day—and he wasn't going to even think about how degrading it sounded—was Erica, who he hadn't seen since that night in Grandpa McCrazy's basement.

"It's incredibly ironic to me that all of the people you have lined up to protect me have at one time or another tried to kill me. Or bashed my head with a piece of my beautiful Jeep and tossed me in a dumpster. On your orders."

"I never told her to do that specifically," Derek hedged. "She knows better than to try that now, anyway."

"Why are you calling me anyhow," Stiles asked, because what was the point of a babysitter if Derek was going to spend the entire time he was elsewhere on the phone with him.

Derek ignored the question. "I'll see you tonight. I'll bring pizza."

"How sweet," Erica said as soon as he got off the phone. "I think I remember this bit from a Lifetime movie."

"Shut up," Stiles said, because Erica never sounded more fake than when she was being a bitch on purpose. "Let's play Halo."

"Don't cry when I kick your ass." Erica snatched the controller from him and sat down next to him. "I don't want to have to deal with your crazy boyfriend."

Stiles glanced over at her as the game started up. "Don't you mean your crazy Alpha?"

"When you're involved? No. If he's not here with you, he's talking about you. I thought he talked about you a lot before. Now, it's just constant."

"What?" Stiles asked, surprised. "He talked about me before this," Stiles waved his hand around his midsection, "whole thing happened?"

"Yeah," Erica said, sly. "He was always talking about how important it was to get you on our side. Or to find out what you knew."

"Wow," Stiles said, feeling warm. He snatched his phone up and sent Derek a quick text before going back to the game.

Erica kicked his ass and he didn't even care. Derek thought he was important before mating with him. That made him unaccountably happy. And horny.

"Oh," Erica said, looking over at the window like she heard something Stiles couldn't. "Derek's back early. I thought he'd be another hour at least. What the hell did you text him?"

Stiles blushed. "Nothing."

Before he had a chance to think about it, Erica dived for his phone and snatched it up. "Oh, I see," she said, gleeful. "No wonder he came running. I'll have to try this on Boyd."

"Shut up," Stiles said, embarrassed. "And give that back."

It was then that Derek climbed through the window. Stiles had tried breaking him of the habit, but he eschewed the front door more often than not. "Erica, leave."

She went, but not before giving Stiles a wink.

Any residual humiliation he felt disappeared under the heat of Derek's stare.

He stripped so quickly he popped at least three buttons on his shirt. He didn't care in the least.

***

"I'm a leading expert in awkward," Stiles commented, looking at where Jackson and Lydia sat primly on the sofa in his living room. "But I don't think I've ever experienced anything more awkward than this."

"Shut up, Stilinksi," Jackson bit out, not taking his eyes off the television, where it was playing _The Notebook_ , Christ.

"You can always get the hell out of my house," Stiles replied, because Jackson was a douche and all of his non-Scott related patience went to dealing with Derek.

Lydia made a show of rolling her eyes. "Maybe you should tell your boyfriend to get a grip. Otherwise, he'll keep ruining other people's plans by making them babysit his precious boy toy."

"Lydia," Stiles said, frustrated. Part of him wanted to tell her to shut up, but the part of him who'd spent the last ten years pining for her wouldn't let him. "Just take Jackson and go. I'll handle Derek."

"I bet you will," Lydia said with a leer that somehow no longer was as attractive as Derek's grumpy face in the morning.

Jackson was on his feet before Stiles even had time to blink, moving to take their horrible movie choice with them. "You'd better."

Stiles walked them both to the door, relieved to see them leave. "Whatever, dickhead. See you around, Lydia."

Fixing him with an evaluative stare, Lydia gave him a slow smile. "Yeah, next time you'll have to come over and tell me everything."

For some reason, Lydia still being vaguely terrifying comforted him. Even though she clearly just wanted him to go over to her place and compare notes about their respective werewolf boyfriends.

His phone was already in his hand when it rang. "Yes, my sexy love beast?"

"Don't call me that," Derek groaned.

Stiles tapped his finger against his lip, even though Derek wasn't there to see him. "It's either that or 'hey, boyfriend who no longer gets laid because he sent the biggest douchebag in the world along with his girlfriend, who I used to crush on, to my house'. Which do you prefer?"

"He's the only one who wasn't busy today?" Derek said, as if a question.

With a completely aggrieved sigh, Stiles got up and walked into the kitchen. "I'm pretty sure I can handle being in my very own home without getting into any sort of trouble. I'm being a good little mate, aren't I, staying indoors? While my big, bad, Alpha goes out and does all the manly scowling and looming... Even though I'm getting cabin fever from being stuck inside all the time."

"I appreciate it," Derek said, so sincerely that it stirred a tiny bit of guilt in Stiles for giving him a hard time. Sometimes, he forgot Derek wasn't a dick anymore. At least not to him.

"I know you do." And he did know. Stiles didn't exactly like being kept at home like a delicate flower, but Derek could only control his nature so much and having his pregnant mate flitting about town, unprotected with an unknown and potentially dangerous pack was pushing things. Also, the last time he tried to go to the store alone for milk and eggs, Derek showed up looking on the verge of popping his fangs and claws in the middle of the bread aisle.

"Does this mean you won't let my betas stay with you when I'm not there?" Derek asked, sounding so pathetic that Stiles' resolve to make Derek sleep on the proverbial couch faltered.

"Just at least send ones I can stand being around for more than five minutes?" Stiles asked, giving in because Derek was a jerk who made Stiles weak to stubble and failure.

"Chicken sound good for dinner?"

"Sure."

***

"Did you lose at Rock, Paper, Scissors to get landed this gig or what?" Stiles asked as soon as he opened his front door to find Boyd standing on the other side.

Boyd ignored him and walked inside. "We'll get along just fine as long as you don't talk to me about Derek's cock. Save the shit for McCall."

Stiles laughed. "No problemo, dude. Haiku is an art not to be rushed. I don't just come up with that shit on the fly." Except he totally did, all the time. He was talented like that, but it would be wasted on Boyd, so he refrained from sharing his latest masterpiece. _It's a knotty one. Always ready for business. A river of come._ After a moment of indecision, Stiles pulled out his phone and texted it to Scott, who replied a minute later with _u suxxors_.

"Got it out of your system?" Boyd asked, watching him with thinly veiled amusement.

"What?"

Boyd rolled his eyes. "Whatever horrifying thing you sent Scott."

"How did you know? Do your freaky werewolf senses allow you to figure out what I text by sound?"

"No," Boyd said. "You just get this expression on your face whenever you're tormenting someone and enjoying it."

Stiles really needed to work on schooling his expressions better. "Wanna watch a movie?"

"Please," Boyd said, clearly desperate for a distraction, from the conversation or just interacting with Stiles, he wasn't sure.

The movie—Resident Evil: Afterlife—had only been playing for twenty minutes when his cell phone started ringing. He was going to have to change Derek's ringtone to something he wouldn't mind hearing every five minutes, apparently.

"Yes, my darling Growlith," Stiles greeted. Derek had also called ten minutes after he'd left and then again five minutes before Boyd showed up.

"That's a Pokémon."

"Award the man a cookie," Stiles said, rolling his eyes at Boyd, who grinned at him. "I guess Mightyena's a more wolfy Pokémon, but it doesn't have the same ring to it."

"Stiles."

Boyd's expression was one of deep, deep amusement. Like he knew that Derek was an overprotective caveman weirdo and his incessant need to treat Stiles as if he were a dainty, delicate prince was better than anything found on the television.

"Derek," he said back, with the underlying tone of 'why the hell are you calling me this time?'

"Chinese." And then he hung up, and Stiles stared at the phone. Because in Derek's mind, informing Stiles about whatever food he was bringing later on would make the pestering less annoying. He wondered idly if Derek would bring home a dead animal carcass if he thought he could get away with it. He would, too, Stiles decided, if Derek for one moment thought Stiles would be proud and give him belly rubs instead of freaking out and having nightmares for a month.

"You two are so much weirder than I thought you'd be," Boyd commented after a few minutes, interrupting a rather vivid image Stiles had of Derek showing up on his porch with a wild boar over his shoulder, wolfed out, with blood covering his stupidly handsome, smiling face.

Stiles ripped his eyes away from the movie he wasn't watching to give him a wide-eyed look. "What do you mean?"

Boyd just snorted, then gave Stiles a speculative glance. "If you let this go, I'll send you a photo of Derek wearing a 'Team Jacob' shirt."

"Deal," Stiles said, and he didn't sound the slightest bit breathless or dreamy at the prospect. It was worth it, too, because Derek was glaring at something off to the side, his profile lit up with all the surliness he could muster. It was glorious. "How did you manage to get him to wear it?"

"Erica snuck it into his laundry. He didn't even notice until Isaac couldn't stop laughing every time Derek came in the room."

Stiles gave Boyd a bro fist for that. "Got any more?"

There was a terrifying smile on Boyd's face that told him he did.

"What do you want for them?"

Boyd's grin just got wider. "Nothing too bad. Don't worry so much."

Stiles wondered how Derek would feel if he told him that he wasn't the scariest werewolf he knew.

***

" _Look at him. Look at me. That boy is bad...and honestly, he's a wolf in disguise, but I can't stop staring in those evil eyes..._ " Stiles glared at his phone before answering it. "What do you want? And you better not just be calling to check up on me."

The silence that followed said everything. "Chocolate."

"What about it?"

"Do you want some?"

Stiles deserved an award for not throwing his phone. "Sure. All the chocolate." Then he hung up on Derek before he could make up any other stupid questions.

"Does Derek know that's his ringtone?" Isaac asked, lips curled into a grin.

Stiles shrugged. "Derek made me promise not to use anything by Duran Duran or Shakira. This was fair game."

Snorting, Isaac shook his head. "Probably because he never paid attention to Lady Gaga lyrics."

"His loss," Stiles said, tossing the phone back on the desk.

"So," Isaac said, giving Stiles a look that was a mixture of hopeful and curious. "I was wondering..."

"About?" Stiles asked, not exactly sure which of the three likely awkward conversations he was going to find himself in, but completely sure he'd rather hit his head against the wall than have it.

Isaac toyed with one drumsticks he'd found while poking around Stiles' room. "Derek."

"What about Derek?" Stiles had the sneaking suspicion that the conversation would either be about sex or emotions and Stiles didn't know which he wanted to talk about less.

"Is it weird?" Isaac asked, tapping the drumstick against his thigh with less rhythm than a Justin Bieber song. "You guys were barely talking and now you're going to be together for the rest of your lives. How is that even going to work?"

"Let me ask you a question," Stiles said, because this was scarily close to a few conversations Stiles had with his dad. "What are you going to be doing for your Masters thesis in college?"

"I don't even know if I will be in college." Isaac looked utterly perplexed.

Stiles nodded. "Exactly. I don't need to figure out how me and Derek are going to manage forever. I just need to worry about this month, this week, today. And I have a plan for that anyway."

"What?" Isaac perked up, interested, and Stiles thought he looked entirely too much like a puppy. Sort of like Scott, which he didn't want to dwell on overmuch.

Smiling, Stiles tilted his head toward his bed. "Sex. I plan to solve all our problems with sex."

"You need more than sex to make a relationship work." Isaac didn't seem overly impressed with his awesome plan. "What if you guys get in a fight? What if he finds someone else? Cheats on you? What then?"

"That's the beauty of the 'solve all problems with sex' plan. Sex is better than fighting and Derek's a helluva lot more agreeable post-coital. And if I keep demanding sex multiple times a day, Derek won't be able to get it up for some hypothetical random hook up."

"Do you," Isaac paused for a moment before he continued, "care for him?"

"He's not the worst person in the world to end up mystically bound to," Stiles answered, not looking at Isaac in the eyes.

"Um. Want to play a game or something?" Isaac asked, vaguely apologetic.

Stiles grinned at him. "Do I want to play Call of Duty instead of talking about feelings or my emotionally stunted werehusband? Do I ever."

Smiling back, Isaac grabbed a controller. "You're going down."

After Scott, Stiles decided Isaac could be his favorite.

***

"Can we talk?" Scott asked, crawling in through the window twenty minutes after Derek had left to go off and do whatever. Whatever werewolves had against perfectly serviceable front doors was beyond him

Stiles looked up from the book he was reading and shrugged. "Sure, bro, come on in."

"We've barely talked this summer," Scott began, looking upset. "And I know I haven't been the greatest friend to you lately, but we're still best friends, aren't we?"

"Of course," Stiles said, moving to sit on the edge of his mattress. "Why would you think we weren't?"

"Stiles," Scott said, cross, and whatever he was about to say clearly had been building for a while, so Stiles decided to just let him talk instead of deflecting the topic. "You basically got _married_ , to _Derek Hale_ of all people. Someone you had asked me to let die on more than one occasion. You got werewolf married to him and you didn't let me know you were considering it. Hell, you didn't even talk to me about your...changes...until after you were already pregnant. With Derek Hale's baby."

There wasn't really anything he could say to that, so he just sat there looking at Scott, helpless.

"And anytime I tried to talk to you about it, you start talking about Derek's dick or something so I'll stop bothering you. I just don't understand. You talked to me about Lydia almost every day for years. But with this? Something this big? You kept it a secret until you had no choice but tell me."

"I guess the only one in this friendship allowed to keep secrets is you," Stiles said, arms crossed. "Well, maybe I didn't talk to you about it because I figured you were too busy with Allison—who you said you were going to take a break from, only to change your mind two days later—or making plans with Deaton. Maybe, I didn't talk to you about it because you haven't been around to talk to."

"I couldn't tell you!" Scott said, getting to his feet. "Deaton said no one else could know!"

"I'm not just anybody else, Scott. I'm your best friend. You didn't tell me about a lot of things! So, don't go acting all wounded because I didn't confide in you about something that has absolutely nothing to do with you!"

"It has everything to do with me," Scott yelled. "Derek's the one who's been keeping things from us since the beginning. Now, because you're all buddy buddy with him, I have to get along with him and do what he wants."

"It has nothing to do with you." Stiles felt more furious than he had in months, like every little thing he'd ever been pissed about and let go came back with a vengeance. "It has to do with me and my dad and Derek. Not everything is about you. Big whoop you have to play nice with Derek? Who cares if everyone we care about stays safe?"

"Don't you trust _me_ to keep you safe?"

Stiles stood up, looked Scott right in the eye and yelled, "No! I don't!"

The hurt expression on Scott's face churned the guilt inside Stiles' gut. "But you'll trust Derek? Are you too busy getting fucked to remember how little you used to trust him?"

It felt like Scott just punched him in the chest, so he gave him a stony-eyed glare. "I think, if you'll recall, most of the time I've actually been in danger was because _you_ , not me, were too busy thinking with your dick."

"It's completely different," Scott yelled. "I love Allison and you know it."

"I guess since you love Allison, it's okay that you've almost got me killed on more than one occasion."

Scott deflated. "It's not. That's not what I meant."

"And maybe I don't feel about Derek the way you feel about Allison," Stiles continued, leaving the _yet_ unspoken, "but I did become his mate. Which means I signed up for a lifetime of him and however many children I end up carrying. Derek may have been a dick and someone I didn't trust for a long time, but he's my family now, so you're going to have to just deal with that."

"I don't like him," Scott said, petulant.

Stiles snorted. "You don't have to like him and by the way? I'm not too fond of Allison at the moment, either, but I never said anything about you still following her around like a puppy."

"What do you have against Allison?"

Raising an eyebrow, Stiles asked, "Are you serious? She went psycho killer on just about everyone!"

"Her mom just died."

"And I know better than anyone what's that's like. Derek bit her trying to save your ass, if you recall. And she reacted by trying to kill any werewolf she saw, regardless if they did anything wrong. She would have killed you."

"I know," Scott huffed. "I just… I love her and I…"

"And I get that," Stiles said, patient even though he didn't want to be. "But no one else loves her like you do, so we've got every right to just be pissed."

"I know."

"Look, Scott," Stiles said, walking over to him. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about what was going on with me. I just… It was just… incredibly personal. I wanted to make the decision based on what I thought was best for me and you're not exactly unbiased when it comes to Derek. You would have disagreed on principle alone, without even considering all the facts."

"True," Scott agreed, with a half-grin. "Are you… happy? I mean really?"

"Enough," Stiles said, because he still wasn't ready to talk about everything he felt about Derek to anyone else, not even Scott. Or Derek for that matter.

"And are you okay with being pregnant?" Scott asked, looking down at his as yet still flat belly. "I mean...I'm sure Deaton could have helped you if you didn't want to be."

Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, which was longer than it had been in years. "It's really strange, yeah. But I'm fine with it. Mostly. Well, at least until I think about being a father and raising a kid and the fact that I'm going to have more heats someday. Heats. Plural. Not singular."

"Yeah, that'd freak anyone out." Scott's hand shot out, but stopped an inch over his belly.

"You do realize this kid is about the size of a kidney bean right now," Stiles said, amused at Scott's almost eager expression.

Scott looked up at him and gave him a wide, goofy grin. "I'm going to be an uncle. I could live with that."

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, opening his arms for a hug, which Scott quickly obliged. "Best uncle ever."

"Are we cool now?" Scott asked as soon as he stepped back. "I'm sorry for…everything."

"Me too," Stiles said, even though he wasn't sorry for much. He did, however, want to stop fighting. Scott was his best friend and there wasn't much he wouldn't forgive him for. He'd just have to keep sending him dirty, TMI haikus, because if there was something Stiles was good at, it was being passive aggressive. "And, yeah, we're cool."

***

"What the hell was I thinking?" Stiles asked the inside of the toilet bowl. "I cannot believe there was a force on earth that made me think that this was a good idea. I blame you. I blame you for every second of misery I'm suffering."

Derek wisely said nothing and continued to rub his back.

"My dad's going to notice. He's going to notice before I've figured out how in the hell to even tell him about this. How the hell _am_ I going to tell him about this? By the way, werewolves. By the way, hunters. By the way, Alpha pack. By the way, pregnant. Congrats, Grampa? He's actually going to lose it and kill me, I know it."

"It'll be fine," Derek said, getting a cup of water from the sink.

Stiles scowled at him and snatched the cup, swallowing half, swishing it in his mouth, and spitting it into the toilet. "Easy for you to say."

"He could arrest me," Derek pointed out. "Again."

"True."

"And this time for something I actually did."

Stiles pouted. "Blame Scott for those other times. I would have never said anything so stupid by myself."

"Agreed," Derek said. "He is an idiot."

"You're only saying that because it's true and I'm too sick to defend him regardless."

Derek laughed. "Yep."

"Oh, god, help me up and then put me out of my misery and get me some sort of chocolate. Not necessarily in that order."

Derek got him to his feet, handed him a glass of water, and reached around him to flush the toilet for him. "You okay?"

"Miserable, but fine," Stiles said after he spat out a mouthful of water. He opened the bathroom cabinet and took a swig of mouthwash, spitting that out, too. "Morning sickness is a bitch and also a dirty, dirty lie."

"My mother had it for eight months with my younger brother and sister."

Stiles thought about his mother, sick and smiling because they thought it was another baby at first, not cancer, ignored the way his face and chest itched with the memory of it.

"Hey," Derek said, concern lacing his tone. "Why don't we watch that movie you wanted to see?"

"You said you'd rather be garroted with a wolfsbane laced wire before you sat down and watched _Nude Nuns With Big Guns_ , just yesterday."

"I hear it got great reviews," Derek deadpanned. "C'mon. Show me this cinematic masterpiece before I change my mind."

"You're only offering this because you're too embarrassed to say the words cuddle or snuggle. Which is exactly what you're actually offering to do with me."

"I'll make popcorn," Derek said, ignoring him. "If you think you can bear the smell."

"Just get me some carrot sticks and celery," Stiles said, graciously letting Derek off the hook. "I will literally shoot the next werewolf that makes microwave popcorn in my house."

Derek gave him a grim nod, no doubt noticing how his heart didn't even skip a beat. "I believe you. Celery and carrot sticks it is."

Stiles smiled and made a nest for him and Derek on his bed so they could snuggle and cuddle (and he wasn't ashamed to admit it, either) and shouted after him. "Best Alpha werehusband ever."

"Don't call me that," Derek yelled right back.

***

"Hey," Stiles said, placing a glass in front of where his dad was looking over some case files at the table. "I need to talk to you. About something important. Want a drink?"

"What did you do?" Dad asked, resigned, and nodded for Stiles to pour. "More than that. I'm sure I'll need it."

Stiles obeyed. "What makes you think I did anything?"

"You're pouring me a drink," Dad pointed out, fairly. He took a sip and grimaced. "What the hell is this crap? It tastes like shoe polish!"

"Um non-alcoholic whiskey?" Stiles replied hesitantly. Perhaps, he should have made Derek buy a bottle of the good stuff.

"What in god's name did I ever do to deserve that?" Dad asked, face still twisted in distaste.

Stiles went and grabbed a bottle from the cabinet and came back. "Nothing. You're the best dad. Ever. And I'm your son. Whom you love."

"Oh, god, just tell me you a) aren't going to get arrested and b) didn't get anyone pregnant." He held out his hand for the bottle. Stiles kept it out of reach.

"Um. No. Neither of those things. Specifically."

Dad frowned and made a grabby hand at the bottle. Stiles pulled it closer to him. "Now, why do I not find that reassuring in the least?"

Stiles pulled out the chair across from his dad and sat down. He could do this. He totally could. Alternately, he could make "Papa Don't Preach" his dad's ringback tone. Or he could wait until he was six or seven months along and let his dad suss it out on his own. "Hey, have you no faith in your son?"

"Stiles," Dad said, weariness evident in his tone. "I just want you to talk to me."

On the other hand, if he let his father find out on his own, his dad probably would never speak to him again.

"Okay," Stiles said, thumbing at the loose edge of the label on the bottle of whiskey. "What I'm gonna tell you will sound... ridiculous. Impossible. But, I can prove it. Dr. Deaton will back me up."

"The vet?" Dad asked. "You know, somehow I don't find it surprising that he's involved in something."

"So," Stiles said, placing his hands flat on the table. "ScottandDerekarewerewolvesaswellasabunchofotherpeopleandmeandDerekarematesandImpregnantwithhishellspawn."

For a minute, there was nothing but silence. His dad blinked once, twice, and then reached across the table and snatched the bottle Stiles had forgotten to guard. He took one swallow, not even bothering with a glass, then placed the bottle back down on the table between them. "Now, say that again."

"Scott and Derek are werewolves," Stiles said, trying to remember the exact wording of his previous jumble. "As well as a bunch of other people."

Dad closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, and nodded at him. "And the rest."

"Me and Derek are mates and..." Stiles swallowed thickly and dropped his eyes back down to the table, and whispered. "I'm pregnant."

"You're telling the truth," Dad said, eyes wide. "Or at least you're not lying. I think. Actually, no. I don't know what to think. You just told me you were pregnant and there are werewolves and every single instinct I have tells me you're not lying."

"Well," Stiles said, trying to dredge up a smile. "I hated lying to you. Before. It just wasn't my secret to tell. Derek said it was okay, now, to tell you."

"Because you're pregnant," Dad repeated, as if the words didn't quite fit right in his mouth. "By him. He got you pregnant. Derek Hale. A person I've had in the back of my squad car more than once. Both times because of tips from you and Scott. Not to mention, he's twenty-two and you most assuredly are not."

"About that," Stiles said, tapping his foot against chair leg. "I apologized? He forgave me? We hugged it out?"

"Apparently, you did more than hug it out." His dad uncapped the bottle, took a deep breath, then capped it again. " _Twenty-two_ , Stiles."

"He's very immature for his age."

"That does not make me feel any better."

Stiles sagged. "Don't hate me, dad. Please."

Dad got to his feet and walked around the table to stand in front of him. He sighed, reached down and pulled Stiles to his feet. "I never could," Dad said, giving him a hug. "We'll figure it out."

"Yeah?" Stiles said, face hot as he pressed it against his dad's shoulder. "Promise?"

His dad rubbed his hand against his back. "Yeah. I promise."

"Don't kill Derek, either," Stiles muffled the words against his dad. "I kind of like him a little."

His dad sighed, took a step back, and gripped both of Stiles' arms. "Did it have to be him?"

Stiles shrugged, nodding his head. "Yeah, it did."

"I'm going to drive over to Dr. Deaton's for a talk," Dad said with a grimace. "You will stay here, in your room."

"Okay, dad," Stiles agreed, meaning it, because things were good between them, not great, but better than they were and he wasn't going to screw it up for anything less than the life or death emergency. He immediately cursed himself for even letting his thoughts wander in that direction, because that was a jinx if there ever was.

"I'll be back soon." His dad gave him a kiss on his forehead like he used to when Stiles was younger. He then walked to the door, and said over his shoulder as he walked out the door, "Now that you've told me, does this mean you'll stop playing _Criminal_ nonstop?"

Stiles resolutely did not blush and he did not run up to hide in his room away from his musically judgmental father.

When Derek's ringtone sounded forty minutes later, Stiles dropped the book he was reading, and hid it under the bed as if Derek would be able to scent him reading _What To Expect When You're Expecting_ over the phone. "Yes, my dearest Wasabi Pea?"

"Your dad's outside," Derek said, sounding as worried as Stiles had ever heard him. He didn't even complain about the pet name, which said a lot about Derek's state of mind. "I think he just checked his clip."

Stiles didn't know why it surprised him that his dad was paying Derek a visit, but it did. "I bet a scary, badass Alpha like you can handle a little Q&A with your father-in-law."

"Get over here and help me," Derek said, sounding a little desperate.

He tried to suppress a grin and failed. "Hey, if you weren't such a scaredywolf, you could have been with me when I told Dad."

"Stiles," Derek whined. He'd deny that he was whining, but it didn't make it any less true.

Stiles licked his lips. "Just try not to get yourself killed. If anything, this pregnancy has only increased the good ol' libido."

Derek huffed, but Stiles could tell he wasn't actually mad. "I'll see you tomorrow."

***

Derek had shown up the following night after the talk with his dad with a bag on his shoulder. "Your dad and I think it'll be safer if I'm with you until we can figure out what the Alpha pack is up to."

"Wow," Stiles said, because his dad had come home last night, given him a look when he peeked his head into Stiles' room, and said, _Really, son, Derek Hale? Well, I suppose it could have been worse. Like that Whittemore kid_ , and then left to go to bed. "I would have loved to see the snow job you pulled on him to get him to agree to this."

Derek smirked, completely unapologetic, and said, "I just told him the truth. He said he was grateful to have me looking out for you."

At that, Stiles suppressed a snort because if Derek wanted to believe Stiles' dad thought good of him instead of keeping him close so he couldn't shirk his duties to their unborn hellspawn, he wasn't going to disabuse him. "That's nice."

"I thought so." And Derek had sounded so pleased and happy that Stiles had to tug off his clothes, push him down on the bed, and give him a sloppy, but enthusiastic blow job.

Later that night, when Derek was doing his usual almighty sprawl on top of him, Stiles said, "I think I'm more worried about what's going to happen after this baby's born than I am about the Alpha pack."

"Why?" Derek asked, voice rough. He didn't shift, though, or make any attempt to look at Stiles, so it made it easier to talk.

Stiles tugged a little at Derek's hair. "Well, I'm due in March. I'll still have three months left of my junior year to accomplish and all of my senior year with a kid. And Deaton wasn't too specific about when I'll have another heat."

"My mother had years between hers," Derek offered. "I doubt you'll go into another one too soon after our baby's born."

"That's a relief, at least," Stiles said, still trying to figure out how he went from never even imagining himself giving birth to accepting the fact that he was doomed to carrying a brood in the course of two months. Well, if the other option was mind-numbing anxiety and panic attacks, the easy acceptance made sense. Especially if easy acceptance was more likely a really, really good defense mechanism. "What about the other stuff?"

"I assumed I'd be taking care of our child," Derek said, hesitant, as if he didn't want it confirmed that Stiles didn't trust him with their kids.

Stiles kissed the top of his head. "That is such a relief, lemme tell you. The idea of trying to find a babysitter we'd both trust was a logistical nightmare."

"Good," Derek said, relief evident. "You don't have to worry, Stiles. No matter what happens, we'll figure something out that we both can live with."

He gave Derek another kiss on the head, and when Derek turned his face up so Stiles could see him, he gave him another on his lips. "I have another question."

"Of course you do," Derek said, small smile playing about his lips.

Stiles curled his fingers around the nape of Derek's neck and kissed him again. "Do you think I'm having a werebaby?"

"There's a good chance," Derek said, turning enough so Stiles could feel the erection pressing into his thigh. "Though, I am surprised you haven't asked me this before now."

"Me too," Stiles said, spreading his thighs to make more room for Derek, who moved so he was knelt between them. "I think my head was too filled with everything else to even think about it. Or at least something was too busy being filled for me to think about much of anything."

"I think something's wrong with me," Derek remarked as he slowly pushed his cock inside of Stiles. "Because your horrible jokes are starting to turn me on lately."

"Good," Stiles said, words almost catching in his throat. He allowed Derek to tug his legs over Derek's splayed thighs, and slowly thrust into him, quiet and deep. "Because I'm not going to stop making them."

"Don't want you to change," Derek panted out, dragging the head of his cock against Stiles' prostate. "Want you to be my idiot."

The second Derek's knot started to swell, Stiles came quietly, untouched, all over his belly. He reached up and tugged Derek down by the neck and kissed him, not caring about the awkward position. Derek moaned against his lips, and Stiles just stared at him for a minute before he replied, "Always."

***

Two days before school was set to start up again, Stiles received a call from Deaton asking him to come down to his office for a visit and a check up. The last time he'd heard from him was when he recommend Stiles start taking daily vitamin and Derek ran out to the store and bought him five bottles of Flintstones Chewables. He sincerely hoped any and all medical aspects didn't involve stirrups or a speculum.

"What's up, doc?" Stiles asked as he and Derek walked in to where Deaton was reading a file in a manila folder.

Deaton looked unamused. "I've never heard that one before, Mr. Stilinksi."

"It's my goal to expand and enrich all the lives around me," Stiles said, arms spread.

"Well, I wanted to discuss with you the upcoming school year. I'm sure you were concerned about what you'd do when your pregnancy becomes too obvious to hide."

"Yeah," Stiles said, nodding. He'd talked to his dad, who said they'd figure out something, but Stiles was fairly tired of that expression at the moment and was looking forward to something other than a vague non-plan. "Whaddya got for me?"

"Firstly, you might not have to worry as soon as you'd expect. Some people don't show until they're quite far along. Considering I've rarely seen you dressed in anything but layers and baggy shirts, you'll probably be able to hide it quite far along. When it does get to the point where loose close no longer will hide it, I'll provide you with a note your father can give the excuse your attendance on medical grounds."

"That'll be great until someone wonders why my medical note came from the local vet."

Deaton smirked at that. "I doubt anyone will be looking that closely. In any case, I'll make sure that's not an issue. Also, when you do Ms. Morrell will come to your house to tutor you, to make sure you don't fall behind."

"Our guidance counselor and French teacher?" Stiles asked, suddenly wary.

With a nod, Deaton continued, "Yes. You'll find she's very aware of the less than common aspects of the world."

He'd talked to her a few times over the last eight months, talked around a lot of the weird shit that went on, and before he could go through every one of their sessions in his mind, Deaton actually looked faintly apologetic. "You can trust her. I promise."

Stiles very much wanted to say how little that meant to him because of just how much he didn't really trust Deaton, but he wisely refrained because of the history Deaton had with Derek's family. "Good," he managed, and Derek decided then was a good time to slide his arm around Stiles' waist.

"Anything else?" Derek asked, giving him a gentle squeeze.

Deaton nodded. "There's one more thing. Starting next month, you'll need to start coming in for regular appointments to monitor your pregnancy. Scott tells me his mother is now aware of his situation. If it would make you feel better, we can arrange for her to sit in on these appointments to make sure you get the best care, under the circumstances."

"Yeah," Stiles choked out, not quite sure he felt comfortable getting obstetrics care from _Scott's mom_ , but he didn't want his only care coming from Deaton either. "I did have a question. After this," Stiles waved his hand around his midsection," is all over...I mean. You said last time something about fertile years and heats and stuff. When...when can I expect a repeat of this glorious event? Because, honestly? I'd rather not have three pregnancies under my belt before I even start college, if you get my drift."

"Don't worry," Deaton said, placid. "Heats are usually over a year apart, more so if one chooses to breastfeed."

Stiles just stared at Deaton for a moment, because that was _real_ helpful. Christ, the man was a dick sometimes. "Yeah, thanks."

"Anytime," Deaton said, and then waved his hand towards the door. "Call me later to set up an appointment. I'll arrange things with Ms. McCall."

Derek just gave a short nod in thanks as Stiles grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the door. "Will do, doc."

Stiles gave Derek a pleading glance as soon as they were back to the Camaro. "If I beg, will you take me out for ice cream?"

"How about I take you out for ice cream," Derek said, giving him what passed for a leer in Derek's world. "And after we get back home, you can beg me all you want?"

"Sold."

***

For the first time in Stiles' entire life, he was grateful to be going back to school. If he had to spend another minute in his bedroom, which now always smelled faintly of sex, he was going to go bugfuck crazy. School practically seemed like a respite by the time he drove his Jeep into the parking lot.

One benefit of letting his dad in on the furry secret he'd been carrying was that they were able to get everything straightened out legally with Derek and his packletts. The downside was most of said pack appeared to be waiting for him outside of the school. Which Stiles thought was probably unnecessary since he had a feeling Derek would be out creeping around the perimeter of the school until he got a grip.

"Just promise not to...like...offer to carry my bag or hold out my chair or act like anything's different," Stiles said, "because I think we're going to have company this year and the last thing we need to do is give away the whole game because none of you know the meaning of subtle."

"We've bonded over the summer, right?" Erica asked, tossing her arm carelessly around his shoulder. "That means we're going to spend lots of time hanging out."

Stiles squirmed out of her grip and walked closer to Scott, who was blatantly eyeing his belly like it was going to start doing the Harlem Shake at any moment. "You all can cross 'acting', 'spy', and 'undercover cop' off the list of things you'll do when you grow up."

He ducked into the bathroom only to find Derek sneaking around like a creeper all those after school PSAs warn people about.

"Hey," Derek said, tense, and he tugged Stiles close and gave him a hug and a kiss. "I think at least two of the alphas are here at the school. Be careful and call me if anything suspicious happens."

"Should I be worried?" Stiles asked, even though he didn't think anyone would actually try something during school hours. Derek took a deep breath and shook his head.

"I think they're just watching right now," Derek said, and he sounded mostly sure of himself. Stiles figured that was two parts Stiles being pregnant and one part healthy suspicion.

"I'll be fine, Grumpy bear," Stiles said, "and if anything happens, all your little minions will be here to protect me. Because they're all teenagers who still go to this high school."

"Don't call me that," Derek said, wrinkling his nose. "And stop reminding me."

Then he gave Stiles another kiss and sent him off to class.

When he sat down in class, Scott looked over at him with disgruntled expression. "Is he going to haunt the boy's bathroom for the rest of the year?"

Stiles ignored him and focused on being distracted during the pointless back to school lecture. He wondered, briefly, if they'd be able to smell or hear that he was pregnant, but decided that it was unlikely, at least for now, due to the massive sensory input they'd be getting. Scott continued to send him looks and Stiles continued to pretend he was paying attention to the teacher.

Either Derek or one of his betas must have spoken to Scott during one of their separate classes, because by the time they all sat down to eat lunch, Scott was acting like normal. They all were. Everything was absolutely fine except for the hideous, mouthwatering-in a bad way-smell that enveloped the room.

He barely made it to the bathroom before he was heaving and a heavy hand was rubbing his back. "Dude," he said as soon as he finished gagging. "You're gonna get arrested or something."

"Your dad will let me go," Derek said, sounding quite certain. Stiles left him to his delusions because the back rubs felt nice when he was sick.

When the nausea receded enough for him to be fully upright, Stiles leaned against Derek for one selfish moment before he turned to the sink to rinse his mouth out. "As much as I love you hovering here," Stiles said, not nearly as sarcastic as he wanted to be, "you really can't be making it a regular thing."

"Stiles," Derek replied, a touch helpless. "I could hear your heart rate jump."

"And where were you listening to this from?" Stiles asked, eyebrow raised. "From your car out in the parking lot?"

Derek's silence was as good as a 'yes'. 

"Look," Stiles said, walking right into Derek's personal space, unsurprised to find himself in a loose embrace moments later. "Our best bet is to play it cool. They'll only know something's up with me if everyone goes around acting like it. I'll be fine. Your wereidiots will see to it when you can't."

Derek kisses the corner of his lips, which was a good thing because he bet his mouth would still taste kind of gross. "All right. I'll see you after you get home."

"Thanks," Stiles said, because he appreciated not having to deal with Derek when he was being bull-headed so much that he couldn't adequately describe it.

***

"Stiles," Peter greeted, somehow managing to sound creepy with his name alone. "It's so good to see you again. And in such interesting state. You're positively glowing, if you don't mind me saying."

"Ugh," Stiles said, and tried to subtly shift to where Derek was going through his mail. He was starting to seriously regret begging Derek to get him out of the house. Even moreso that he said he didn't even care if he had to be around Derek's uncle to do it. Because Stiles clearly hadn't been thinking that one through. "I mean. Um. Yeah. You too." 

Obviously hearing the lie, Peter smirked. "You'll have to invite me when you two decide to renew your vows. I'd hate to miss another important event in my nephew's life."

Stiles blinked, trying to figure out if Peter was actually suggesting to witness him and Derek doing...things. He hated Peter so much. So very much. "Um. No?"

"Peter, get lost," Derek said, not looking up from the paper he was reading. "Stiles, you can sit with me." He reached over to Stiles and tugged him to sit down on his lap. Normally, Stiles would have balked at any sort of lap sitting that didn't involve nudity and orgasms, but he was willing to make an exception.

"Eloise is a beloved family name," Peter said as he grabbed his coat. "As is Edgar."

As soon as the door closed, Stiles looked at Derek, and said, "If you ever add him to my cadre of babysitters, I will get a circle of mountain ash tattooed around my dick and ass."

"It never even crossed my mind," Derek lied, and set down the papers he was looking at.

Stiles gave him a skeptical look, but refrained from making him admit it. "And we're are so not going with family names."

"Agamemnon, right?" Derek asked, because he was an asshole.

"Hilarious," Stiles replied, "and yet proving my point. We're going to name Spawn the first Liara or Garrus."

"I don't know what games those names are referencing," Derek said, pulling Stiles flush against him, "but the answer is also no."

"We'll figure it out before spawn's born," Stiles said with an assurance he really didn't feel.

Derek gave him a dark look. "I've seen claws and fangs come out over baby-naming battles."

"Which you won't be doing to me."

There was a too long moment of silence before Derek said, "We'll find something we both won't hate."

"Sure," Stiles said, and then took in the too small space for the first time since he'd got there. "I'm...thinking you'll probably have to find a new place to live before Spawn arrives."

"Yeah," Derek agreed, which was nice. Stiles rewarded this sort of acquiescent behavior with kisses. 

When he pulled back, he asked, "Is that going to be a problem? I've never seen you...um...work? I have no idea where you even get your money from."

"Royalties," Derek answered thoughtlessly, still staring at Stiles' lips.

Stiles perked up. "Royalties?"

"No," Derek said, finally looking worriedly up at Stiles' gleeful expression. "I said insurance."

"Nuh uh." Stiles shook his finger at Derek. "I heard you say royalties. Were you in porn? Please let the answer be yes. Tell me you were in porn. Then tell me the name of the title so I can buy it or illegally download it immediately."

"You..." Derek looked utterly perplexed. "You want to watch me have sex with other people?"

"Oh oh," Stiles said, bouncing, "was it pegging? That'd be hot. Some hot chick going at you with one of those ginormous dildos. Or! Bear porn. And the other dude's the bear. Because you're surprisingly un-hairy for a werewolf."

"If you want to see what I look like bottoming, we could just do that again," Derek said, eyebrow raised. And that wasn't the only thing raised, because Stiles could feel something poking his thigh.

Stiles shook his head. "No, no. I prefer you topping. You know that." And then Stiles watched in fascination as Derek visibly preened, the smugness radiating off him as he was the master of topping, like it was some sort of enviable skill only few could master instead of it just being that Stiles was sort of lazy and ridiculously sensitive and had an easily triggered prostate. All Derek actually did was stick his dick in and thrust a bunch; it wasn't neurosurgery.

"I'd love a demonstration of your skills," Stiles said, because Derek was a ridiculous person who responded well to shameless flattery of his ability in the bedroom. "If you tell me what you get royalties from if not for porn." He was terribly disappointed Derek's secret job wasn't porn.

"I wrote," Derek mumbled. "Nothing spectacular. Just enough to get a check every once in a while. I have money from the insurance, too."

"You wrote books?" Stiles asked, stunned.

Derek scowled. "Yes, books. What did you think I wrote? A technical manual?"

"Hey, those take skills," Stiles countered. "So what sort of books did you write?" Whatever it was, had to be _good_ otherwise he wouldn't be so hesitant to admit it.

"Just, um," Derek pointed over to the bookshelf. "A few of those."

Stiles got up and walked over to shelf and picked up a very thin, paperback book with an approximation of a werewolf on the cover and a scantily clad lady person. He looked at the title and then down at the author's name and couldn't stop the laughter bubbling from his chest. " _Dee Dee Moonsong_ ," Stiles choked out, waving the book helplessly. " _Howling For Your Love_?"

Eagerly, he grabbed the next book. This time, it was a dangerous looking woman with claws and red eyes. "Succubi: The Light of the Moon?" The next has a shady looking pair of vampire twins. "Double Your Blood Lust?" 

Derek buried his face in his hands and groaned. "Laura," he said, voice muffled, "laughed so hard when she found out. I had written the first one in a creative writing class as a joke. The professor loved it, next thing I knew, I had penned four more. Laura thought the name the publisher came up for me was the most hilarious thing she'd ever heard. She called me Dee Dee whenever she could in public for a year."

Stiles put the books back on the shelf, making a note to look up the rest online later and download them to his kindle, and walked over to Derek and crawled back onto his lap. He ran his fingers through the hair around Derek's ear and kissed his forehead. "I won't ever call you that, if you don't want me to."

"Thanks," Derek said, and there was a sad smile on his face. "There are so many other things I'd rather tell you not to call me."

Stiles kissed Derek firmly on the lips. "Sure thing, my darling cavewolf."

"Don't call me that," Derek said, then smiled as he kissed Stiles back.

***

Stiles managed to get to midway through his pregnancy with nothing much happening except for two appointments with Deaton. One for the heartbeat, which all the asshole werewolves could hear before Stiles, and another for the ultrasound—which Stiles would swear til he died was a version of water torture for pregnant people—that left everyone a little awed. Derek had choked up and his dad had tears in the corner of his eyes. Stiles had simply stared until Deaton kicked them out of the office with a couple of black and white grainy pictures.

There were also a handful (or more) times when Stiles frantically texted Derek for an emergency quickie in the locker room during lunch, which he always obliged and some ridiculous late night craving he'd had and Derek dutifully went out and purchased. 

That was why Stiles was standing next to Derek, who was stock still and near growling, when the Alpha pack—which he'd sorta kinda forgotten all about—interrupted their afternoon walk by looming ominously in a loose group in front of them.

"Alpha Hale," the lead dude said, and Stiles wondered why anyone thought a pompadour was a good look. It wasn't. On anyone. "You must know why we're here."

"Yes," Derek said, short and clipped. Stiles actually would bet all the raspberry pop tarts he'd hidden under his bed that Derek was just posturing for the sake of it. 

The lead dude took a few steps towards them and then just stopped dead in his tracks, eyes trained entirely on the slight baby bulge Stiles had recently developed. "Your mate is...carrying young."

Derek responded by shifting into his beta-form and stepping in front of him. "Stay right where you are."

"This changes things," he said, looking like someone gave him a ticket to see the Dallas Cowboys or something else completely tragic. "Alpha Hale, please accept our congratulations."

"What?" Stiles asked, elbowing Derek out of his way. "You were all grrr all these months and being all whatever and now, you're just leaving?"

"It is in our code never to level judgment against a pack while they're expecting." And with that, they all turned in unison and flounced off into the forest.

"What?" Stiles asked again because he seriously could not fathom what just happened. "Oh my _god_ , my life has become a scene out of a Predator movie. And not even one of the _good_ ones. It was just like that bit from Predator 2. Except without the preceding massacre. But there _could_ have been one, that's the point."

"Stiles," Derek said, slow and cautious. "It's okay." And then Stiles was in Derek's arms feeling shaky and out of sorts and incredibly vulnerable, considering nothing actually happened. "Hey, it's fine. They're gone. They're leaving."

"Are you sure?" Stiles asked, mouth barely moving against Derek's chest. "This isn't just a psych-out?"

Derek rubbed his back. "No. They were telling the truth. I'm sure of it."

"Good," Stiles said, not letting go yet. "That's good."

***

***

Despite repeated demands from Derek, lots of whining from various other werewolves, a few pained pleas from his dad, and a few pointed judge-y stares from Deaton, Stiles insisted on continuing to go to school well into his second trimester.

Yet for all the deliberate attempts to get him to finally stay home, Stiles was blindsided by the least likely source: Danny.

The first time, he had no idea what even prompted Danny to pull him aside. He just looked at Stiles with that cute, sheepish grin he got and said, "Well, sometimes you just have to remember to ask him to shave first."

Stiles, bewildered, had nodded in total and complete agreement. "Yeah, sure. Make sure he shaves. Got it."

The second time, two days later, Danny had just given him a sympathetic look and said, "Yeah, some guys can be touchy about their facial hair," to which Stiles nodded mechanically, "you can always use this." And Danny handed him a tube of hydrocortisone cream. Stiles thanked him, and then went over to the mirror to check his face. Derek usually put some sort of moisturizer on his face if he knew Stiles was going to want some. It usually worked. His face seemed fine, but Stiles pocketed the tube anyhow.

The last time happened just five minutes ago. And Stiles still could feel the heat on his face. Danny had looked at him sheepishly, again, and handed him a piece of paper and looked somewhere over Stiles shoulder when he'd said, "I've um...noticed your walk, lately. I thought because I've seen you with...that guy who's obviously not your cousin, Miguel, that um. The beard was the problem. Sometimes, you just need...better lube. Or more of it. I gave you the name of a really good one."

"Uh," Stiles had replied, because he honestly couldn't even think of what to say to that.

"Yeah, so," Danny had smiled at him, dimples and all. "Just tell him to be careful. He's a big guy. He might not realize he's being too rough. Unless that's...how you like it?"

Stiles had blinked once, twice, gaped like a fish, and then swallowed thickly. "Yeah, um. Thanks. For the tips. I'll. Do that. Next time."

And then, when Danny had disappeared back to where the veil of awkward had dissipated, Stiles finally realized what had been going on. He had a _waddle_. He was _waddling_ now. And it made Danny think about Stiles' sex life far more often than he wanted anyone not him or Derek (or occasionally Scott when he was being an asshole) thinking about it.

He fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone, and called Derek. "You win. I'll stay home until the baby's born. Come get me. Now."

"Are you okay?" Derek asked, but Stiles could hear the sound of Derek's car starting. 

Stiles swallowed and nodded, before he realized Derek couldn't see him. "I'm fine. Well, no. I'm not. I waddle now. I waddle and it's all your fault that I had the most awkward conversation in my life about _lube_ and you're going to get here and take me home and make me forget today ever happened."

Derek's laugh wasn't muffled in the slightest. Dick. "Noted."

***

The worst part was that Stiles had almost gotten used to being pregnant and waddling and cravings and having to fuck in awkward positions because he now had a steadily growing protrusion. Yet, he was in no way prepared to open his eyes one morning, flop on his back, and notice that his pecs were less pec-shaped and more...full, round. And not in the 'dude got too fat and got moobs' way.

"Oh, my _god_ , Derek, I am growing breasts. Actual breasts, Derek. I hate you. I hate you. _I hate you, so much._ Why would you do this to a person? I just want to know that. Why? This is some sort of payback, I just know it. Is it because of the Miguel incident? This is totally taking a grudge too far. I mean. Derek, fuck, I have tits now, and I'm fairly certain they're not done growing yet. And Deaton! Deaton knew this would happen. And he let me think he was just fucking with me. I cannot even believe this."

Derek sighed, and turned from the computer where he was writing one of his cheesy supernatural romances. "It's not as bad as you're making it."

Stiles stared at him, eyebrows raised. "I beg to fucking differ. It's bad enough you knocked me up with your mutant Alpha sperm and I can't even get the notoriety of being a cast member on _Teen Mom_ , because everything in my life is a bundle of lies and secrecy and shame. I now have to deal with breasts. Ohmygod, this means I'm going to _lactate_ , doesn't it? As soon as I can heft myself up into a standing position, I'm going to find a way to murder you."

The second Stiles said the word lactate, Derek's eyes glazed over in that way that meant he was thinking about sex.

Stiles almost could forgive him for it, but he was still too horrified. Instead, he grabbed his phone and glared at Derek over the top of it and sent him a text. _Boobs: Not fun on me. I have two words for you, babe. Wolfsbane machete._

"I was wondering when you'd finally gift me with one of your notoriously awful haiku."

Stiles glare intensified. "I will find some way to make you pay. Mark my words."

***

Stiles was right. Horrifyingly right. Lactation was a thing Stiles could check off in the column of new life experiences he'd never thought he'd have.

Unlike Stiles, Derek apparently had no problem with the appearance of boobery. In fact, Derek got this spaced-out look whenever he was within reach of them and had taken to tugging Stiles' shirt off with an alarming frequency to get better access.

"So, Deaton," Stiles said as soon as the vet answered his phone. "I think something's wrong with Derek."

"What seems to be the problem?" Deaton asked and Stiles poked his finger on Derek's forehead, but he was too busy licking to pay him any attention.

Stiles cleared his throat. "He's...um. It's like he's...god. Um. Drunk? Or...or...hooked on my...colostrum."

After Deaton stopped laughing silently—Stiles could totally tell that he was—he started to explain about some nonsense biological imperative about keeping the daddy around. Stiles hung up on him part way through. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, tried to gather some Zen, then scrolled over to Scott's number. He'd thought up some good quality haiku and he knew just the person to appreciate them.

***

"And then, I'm going to teach you how to play Lacrosse," Scott said in a ridiculous baby voice to Stiles' belly. "We'll show your daddies who's the best player in the world. It's you. That's who."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "This baby isn't going to be doing anything but shitting, sleeping, and crying for a good long while, Scott."

"Have you come up with a names yet?" Scott asked, still smiling like a dope. "Or are you still battling it out over Tali and Kaidan?"

"Derek said no names based on characters from Mass Effect, can you believe it?"

"A total injustice, man," Scott replied, giving him a fist bump.

Stiles flung his arms wide. "I know! Now, we're setting for safe, boring names like Miranda and James."

"Does he realize those are all also from Mass Effect?"

Giving Scott a smirk, Stiles tapped his nose. "Hehehe. Who's the man? Yeah, baby. I am. I rock so hard."

"Well, you roll at least."

Stiles kicked Scott in the shoulder. "Fuck you, bro."

Tossing his head back, Scott just laughed.

***

Stiles was resting in bed, achy, miserable, and filled with baby, regretting all of his life choices. He was an eight month pregnant teenage _boy_ , mated to the Alpha failwolf of the local failpack who was currently pressing his face between Stiles' breasts—his _breasts_ , _his_ breasts, _his breasts, dear god_ —like it was the best thing that ever happened to his life. And Stiles didn't care if he had to call Scott to help him, if Derek started motorboating, he would find a way to beat him to death.

"Hmmm," Derek said, looking punch-drunk and blissful as he started mouthing Stiles' nipples. Stiles just stared down at him, the way his lips curved in a smile he rarely saw before this whole disaster, the way his hand caressed his belly with a gentleness he would have said was foreign before this ridiculous pregnancy, and thought, okay, maybe, just maybe, they could make it work.

Stiles curled his arm around Derek's stupid head and let Derek rub his stupid stubble against Stiles' stupid breasts, and said, "Yeah, you too, dumbass."

***

When the squirming, grossly coated with goo, bundle of joy was placed on Stiles' chest, Derek declared that he, in fact, would be naming their daughter.

Derek looked down at her, smiled, and said, "Jennifer Lola Hale."

Stiles and Scott looked at each other for a moment and broke out into a fit of laughter, and Derek never understood why.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Stiles ends up having eight, count 'em eight, kids. The people of Beacon Hills don't know what to think about the lone, remaining Hale and the Sheriff's kid getting married right out of high school, or why every so often a new baby shows up at their rebuilt den of iniquity. It's odd and strange and if anyone connects Stiles' fluctuating weight problem with each new bundle of joy, no one's telling.
> 
>  
> 
> Note: Jennifer Hale is the voice actor for the main character in Mass Effect. (If you play as a lady)


End file.
